8EC0N0 COPY, 
1699. 







LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.Z'l &#r3wNo 

SheldxC 5 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



iHacmtIlan'0 Pocket 3£njgltslj Class'ics. 



A Series of English Texts, edited for use in 

Secondary Schools, with Critical 

Introductions, Notes, etc. 



l6mo. Levanteen. 25c. each. 



Macaulay's Essay on Addison. 
Macaulay's Essay on Milton. 
Tennyson's The Princess. 
Eliot's Silas Marner. 
Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner. 
Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans. 
Burke's Speech on Conciliation. 
Pope's Homer's Iliad. 
Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield. 
Shakespeare's Macbeth. 
Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley. 
Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice. 
Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 
Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. 
Milton's Lycidas, Comus. and Other Poems. 
Lowell's Vision of Sir Launfal. 
Browning's Shorter Poems. 



others to follow. 




JOHN DRYDEN. 



/ 

DRYDEN'S 
PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Or, THE KNIGHT'S TALE 
FROM CHAUCER 



EDITED 

WITH NOTES AND AN INTRODUCTION 

BY 

PERCIVAL CHUBB 

PRINCIPAL OF THE HIGH SCHOOL DEPARTMENT OF THE 
ETHICAL CULTURE SCHOOLS, NEW YORK 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. 

1899 

All rights reserved 




^ 



30554 



COPYKIGHT, 1899, 

By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 



rwocopirs RECEIVED. 



APR 2 71899 
S§» of c 







Norfajooti $ress 

J. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 






CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Prefatory Note v 

Introduction : 

I. Dryden's Importance ix 

II. The Man and his Work xiii 

III. His Age and his Service to it . . . . xxiv 

IV. His "Palamon and Arcite" .... xxx 
Text of the Poem : 

Book I 1 

Book II 26 

Book III 53 

Appendix A. Dedication to " Palamon and Arcite " . 101 

Appendix B. Extracts from Preface to the " Fables " . 105 

Chronological Table 114 

The More Important Reference Books . . . 117 

Notes on the Text ....... 119 

iii i 



PREFATORY NOTE AS TO THE USE OF 
THIS EDITION 



In editing this work, I have proceeded on the as- 
sumption that in using it the teacher will aim, not 
merely to meet the bare requirements for entrance 
to college, but to make the best possible use of it as 
an instrument of literary culture. There is plenty of 
time for such a broad, generous treatment of all the 
books prescribed for study and reading, in any wisely 
planned course of four or even of three years ; time, 
indeed, for a good deal more than this. The reading 
of Palamon and Arcite may be made the occasion, not 
only of acquainting the student with Dryden and the 
important part which he played in inaugurating an 
age of prose and reason, but, more valuable still, 
of comparing the work and genius of two great Eng- 
lish poets in a singularly helpful and happy way. 
Dryden is well worth knowing, Chaucer even more 
so; and Dryden's poem, apart from its independent 
interest and worth, which are considerable, carries with 



vi PREFATORY NOTE 

it the especial recommendation that it offers an easy 
and enticing avenue of approach to Chaucer. Bet- 
ter yet, here is a chance, to be greedily seized, of 
educating the student's literary taste, of developing 
his literary discrimination and insight, by a method 
which may be made to yield more satisfactory re- 
sults than any other — the comparative method. To 
subserve these two supplementary aims, as well as 
the primary aim of familiarizing the student with 
Dry den and his time, is the purpose of the present 
edition. 

I have considered that the best way to make this 
comparative study possible and fruitful is to develop 
the comparisons in the notes, rather than by means 
of an introductory essay. I have, therefore, drawn 
attention there to those passages in Chaucer's original 
which are best calculated to throw into bold relief, 
and to bring home to the feelings of the student, the 
significant differences between the two poets and their 
unique poetic gifts. 

Another aim which I have sought to realize in the 
notes is that of relating this to other works which 
are to be read to meet the college entrance require- 
ments, as well as to some of those more familiar clas- 
sics — such as Milton's minor poems, Shakespeare's 
easier plays, Goldsmith's and Gray's poems, and the 
Bible (and of this, happily, we are beginning to take 



PREFATORY NOTE vil 

some notice as a literary masterpiece) — which every 
student may be expected to have read before he leaves 
the High School. This has not been done exhaust- 
ively, nor, as I hope, exhaustingly to the student. 
That it ought to be done to some extent cannot be 
doubted ; and not merely for the sake of recalling 
and revivifying works with which the student has 
already become acquainted, but in order that his lit- 
erary knowledge and interests may be solidified and 
suggestively organized. 

Furthermore, in order to develop literary apprecia- 
tion, the notes raise for the student not a few ques- 
tions as to the structure or plot of the poem and as 
to the characters. The fact that these notes are 
mixed with those which explain words and allusions, 
renders it necessary for the teacher to exercise tact 
and discretion in the handling of the notes in gen- 
eral. In most cases it will probably be wise to direct 
the student in his first careful reading of the text — 
not that first, eager, rapid reading, which he is almost 
sure to give it for his own preliminary satisfaction 
and enjoyment — to appeal to the notes only when 
he needs light upon an obscurity, and to leave the 
remaining notes until, having mastered the more ob- 
vious difficulties, he is ready for a critical considera- 
tion of its deeper problems. 

How to make use of the introduction is another 



vili PREFATORY NOTE 

matter which must be left to the teacher's judgment 
and tact. He may decide (as the writer generally 
does in such cases) that the reading of most of it had 
better be left until the work itself has been read. In 
the present instance it will suffice if sections I. and 
IV. (in part perhaps) are read by way of preparing 
the student for the study of the poem ; while the 
reading of sections II. and III. may be advanta- 
geously postponed until, by that study, he has been in- 
terested in Dryden and his work. As a rule, it is well 
not to bar the approach to a literary masterpiece by 
formidable prolegomena. The author's work and a 
literary appreciation of it are our main concerns, from 
which we must not allow either ourselves or our 
students to be diverted. Biographical and historical 
considerations (peace to the followers of Taine's socio- 
logical formularies) are quite secondary. By all means 
let us make the most of the student's keen appetite 
for a new thing by slaking it upon the work itself. 
Let me add that the text here used is that of Christie 
in the Globe Edition of Dryden's Poetical Works. 

PERCIVAL CHUBB. 
New York, 25th February, 1899. 



INTRODUCTION 



I. DRYDEN'S IMPORTANCE 

" Dryden and Pope are not classics of our poetry ; 
they are classics of our prose." Such is Matthew 
Arnold's verdict upon these two famous writers. It 
is a verdict that would be disputed by other eminent 
critics, who regard the best poetry of both Dryden 
and Pope as falling below only that of the four ac- 
knowledged masters of poetic expression, — Chaucer 
and Spenser, Shakespeare and Milton. Arnold un- 
doubtedly expresses the feeling of most of us. 
When we come from the study of the greatest poets 
of this century — Wordsworth and Coleridge, Byron 
and Shelley, Keats, Tennyson, and Browning — to 
Dryden, Pope, and the poets of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, we feel that we have passed from an atmos- 
phere of poetry to one of prose. And yet we must 
beware of hasty and one-sided judgments. There are 



x INTRODUCTION 

many kinds of excellence in poetry. The peculiar 
excellencies of Dryden and Pope are certainly not 
those of Wordsworth and Shelley ; and yet they may 
be in their way great excellencies, to which it would 
be a pity and a loss to remain insensible and indif- 
ferent. At least we may be sure, when we find these 
two poets enthusiastically praised by such voices as 
those of Gray and Johnson, Scott and Lowell, that 
they have something valuable to offer us. We ought, 
therefore, to approach them in a mood of sympathetic 
expectation. Pope, however, we may for our present 
purpose leave aside ; we are to try to get near to his 
greater forerunner and master, Dryden, whose supe- 
riority is generally admitted: Dryden, incontestably 
the greatest literary figure between Milton and Words- 
worth, and one of the most significant in the history 
of English letters, because under his leadership was 
accomplished one of the most important changes in 
style, in the status of literature, and in the social 
position of the man of letters. 

Let us begin by getting a provisional idea of Dry- 
den's claims upon our consideration. First of all, as 
a poet he produced a small body of verse that has 
a high degree of absolute poetic value. Such — to 
name the most familiar poems — are his three well- 
known odes, A Song for St. Cecilia's Day, Alexan- 
der's Feast, or the Power of Music, and To the Pious 



INTRODUCTION xi 

Memory of Mrs. Anne Killigrew ; his lines To my 
Friend, Mr. Congreve; and his masterpiece of satirical 
verse, — the greatest of its kind in our literature, — 
Mac Flecknoe. Scarcely inferior in merit to Mac 
Flecknoe, and ranking with it above all other com- 
positions of the kind, — not even excepting Pope's 
Dunciad, — is Absalom and Achitophel, a biting satire 
which contains a series of unmatched portraits of 
famous contemporaries. Nor must we fail to pay 
high tribute to his two longer poems, Religio Laid 
and The Hind and the Panther, as being our best 
models of argumentative verse, — rather tiresome as 
wholes to us to-day, but relieved here and there by 
passages of masterly power. To these we must add 
his classical translation of Virgil, and his entertaining 
Fables, among them Palamon and Arcite, the best of all. 
His twenty-eight plays and most of his miscellaneous 
occasional poems we can, unless we are specialists, well 
afford to neglect. 

But Dryden's merit as a poet is almost equalled by 
his merit as a prose writer, especially in the field of 
criticism. He helped more than any one else to 
found our modern prose style; and he is, if not the 
"father of modern criticism," as Johnson called him, 
at least its foster-father, and by far the most impor- 
tant figure in English criticism up to his time; our 
first really methodical and penetrating critic, who 



Xll INTRODUCTION 

united a vigorous intellect with wide knowledge, 
painstaking research, poetic insight, and a new power 
of lucid exposition. His early Essay on Dramatic 
Poesy (1667), his later, mature Discourses of Satire 
(1692), and Epic Poetry (1697), together with many 
of his critical introductions to his own works (notably 
to the Fables), are classical contributions toward a 
science of criticism. 

Again, in Dryden, considered as the literary dictator 
of his age, we have one of the dominating figures in 
English literary history. Like portly Ben Jonson 
before him at the "Mermaid," like the ungainly and 
irascible Doctor Johnson after him at the "Turk's 
Head," Dryden, in his own day at " Will's " Coffee- 
house, held undisputed sway over the poets and 
writers of his time. The older men sought his ap- 
proval; the young, his encouragement and advice. 
" Glorious John " Dryden had not the learning or the 
imaginative force of "Rare Ben Jonson"; he had 
not the heroic fibre and masterful personality of the 
great " Doctor " ; but by his easy supremacy, his 
amiability, and his generous recognition of merit, 
especially in the young, he makes, as we recall him, 
throned in his big armchair, — in winter, before the 
hearth ; in summer, on the balcony, — a good third in 
this trio of great literary lawgivers. 



INTRODUCTION Xlil 

II. THE MAN AND HIS WORK 

His life was uneventful, and an account of it reduces 
itself to little more than a chronicle of his literary 
productions. He was born at Aid winkle, Northamp- 
tonshire, on the 9th of August, 1631. Thus he 
was for forty-three years a contemporary of Milton 
(1608-1674), and lived through the Puritan Revolution 
and the Protectorate of the Cromwells (1653-1660), 
the Restoration of 1660, and the Revolution of 1688. 
His family on both sides were stanch Puritans : 
his father, Erasmus Dry den, was a son of that Sir 
Erasmus Dryden who had been imprisoned for oppos- 
ing the exactions of Charles I. ; and his mother's kins- 
folk, the Pickerings, also sided with the popular party. 
John Dryden, however, in accord with the majority 
of his countrymen, fell away from the Puritan cause 
and the Commonwealth, tired of its lofty, hard, sour 
ways, and longing for a little more ease and pleasure. 
So that, although Dryden's life overlaps by forty years 
and more that of Milton, the two poets belong to two 
different periods and embody two almost opposing 
tempers and tendencies. Dryden's literary activity 
may be taken as dating from the year of the Restora- 
tion (1660), and lasting for forty years, until 1700. 
Notwithstanding that during these years Milton's 
Paradise Lost (1667), and Paradise Begained (1671), 



XIV INTRODUCTION 

and Samson Agonistes (1671), were published, they 
were, in fact, belated survivals of an earlier liter- 
ary period, the spirit of which now gave way to 
one of reactionary license and corruption. No ear- 
nest poet would have chosen to be born into such a 
belittling and discrediting period. 

The boy was sent to the famous Westminster School, 
where John Locke, the philosopher, was among his 
schoolmates. From there he went in 1650, with a king's 
scholarship, to Trinity College, Cambridge, where he 
took his bachelor's degree in 1654. It was in this year 
that his father died, leaving him a small property of 
about £40 a year (worth four times the present value 
probably). He had literary ambitions and soon after 
came to London, where he made his home until his 
death. He had written some poor verses at school 
and college ; but his first serious effort was his Heroic 
Stanzas on the Death of Cromwell, which, while marred 
by some of the far-fetched conceits of the prevail- 
ing poetic mode, shows signs of a new strength and 
directness. His enthusiasm for Cromwell was not 
deep-seated, though ; for on the Restoration of Charles 
II. in 1660, he transferred his admirations to that 
merry monarch, and swelled the coronation praises 
with his Astrcea Redux (Justice Returned). This 
poem showed a deft handling of the heroic couplet, 
which was destined to be the favorite verse-form for 



INTRODUCTION XV 

a hundred years to come. It should be said that Dry- 
den was not alone in these turn-coat performances ; 
the poet Waller, no mean poet, was equally ready 
with his magnanimous praises of both Cromwell and 
Charles. 

Dryden was married in 1663 to Lady Elizabeth 
Howard. The marriage was an unhappy one. The 
best thing that can be said of husband and wife is, 
that they both loved their children. Lady Elizabeth 
was a tender, watchful mother ; and we have several 
evidences of Dryden's own affectionate solicitude for 
his three sons. 

The year 1663 was, however, more fortunately event- 
ful for Dryden in relation to his literary ambitions. 
In that year the theatres were reopened, after a period 
of Puritanical suppression. Dryden saw his chance as 
a playwright, and seized it. Until 1681, the date of 
the publication of Absalom and Achitophel, he worked 
almost unceasingly as a dramatist. He catered for 
his public, for the most part, according to its own de- 
praved tastes ; and many of his plays are so stained by 
grossness that they are no longer readable. The Lon- 
don populace was holding high riot, led by a profligate 
king and his courtiers ; and Dryden was one of its 
applauded purveyors of indecent entertainment. 

It was in 1665 that Dryden's newly begun activity 
as a dramatic writer was interrupted by the outbreak 



XVI INTRODUCTION 

of the Plague, which closed the theatres. The year 
following was marked by the Great Fire which swept 
the city, and by the English naval victory over the 
Dutch. These three events gave Dry den topics for a 
long poem, Annus Mirabilis, which added much to his 
fame. It was written in quatrains, and has a few 
good stanzas ; but it is, on the whole, a wearisome per- 
formance, although it pleased people at the time. 
Dryden seems to have composed it in the country, at 
his father-in-law's residence, where he turned his 
period of enforced retirement to further use by writing 
his Essay of Dramatic Poesy, which he published in 
1668. 

The fact that Dryden was in 1670 appointed Poet 
Laureate and Historiographer Eoyal, indicates clearly 
enough that he had advanced to a foremost place 
among the writers of his time. He was on friendly 
terms with the most influential men about the Court, 
and those wealthy and aristocratic amateurs and 
patrons of letters upon whose patronage the success 
of a literary man at that time largely depended. 
These court appointments brought him £200 a year, 
and the customary butt of Canary wine from the king's 
cellars. He was indeed prosperous, his total income 
being probably about £700 a year — a considerable sum 
in those days. 

One episode only, in connection with this period of 



INTRODUCTION XVll 

dramatic activity, deserves record here, — Dryden's con- 
tact with the aged Milton in the very year of the blind 
poet's death. Dry den, it is said, called on Milton to 
ask permission to adapt Paradise Lost to a play in 
rhyme, a sort of opera. Milton, who was civil enough 
toward the writer of whom he is said to have spoken 
as "a great rhymer, but no poet," readily gave him 
leave "to tag his verses." Thereupon Dry den hastily 
wrote and published his adaptation, The State of Inno- 
cence. To us this opera is itself less important than the 
Preface, which pays a warm tribute to Milton's poem 
as " undoubtedly one of the greatest, most noble, and 
sublime poems which either this age or nation has 
produced." This was said, it must be remembered, at 
a time when Milton's fame was in eclipse, and in spite 
of Dryden's own anti-Puritanical bias. When later, in 
1688, a fine folio edition of Paradise Lost was published, 
to which Dry den himself subscribed, it contained under 
the engraved portrait of the poet, Dryden's famous 
lines : — 

Three poets in three distant ages born, 
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. 
The first in loftiness of thought surpassed, 
The next in majesty, in both the last. 
The force of Nature could no farther go ; 
To make the third, she joined the former two. 

Dry den was already becoming involved in the jeal- 



xvill INTROD UCTION 

ousies and quarrels of his friends and patrons. He 
was not, like his successor Pope, of a quarrelsome dis- 
position ; but even he could not avoid making enemies. 
Among these was a former friend, the disreputable 
Earl of Rochester. He it was who is supposed to have 
instigated a cowardly and savage night-attack upon 
Dryden, in the neighborhood of Covent Garden, in 
the winter of 1679. The ruffians who assaulted him 
escaped, and no clue to them could be found. 

It was not until 1681, however, that Dryden finally 
compromised himself as a Tory partisan in the politi- 
cal and religious quarrels that were agitating his 
countrymen. Apparently tired of play-wiiting, and 
ambitious to win greener laurels, he found an oppor- 
tunity to exhibit his power as a satirist. In Absalom 
and Achitophel, published in 1681, he fiercely satirizes 
Lord Shaftesbury and his Protestant supporters, who 
were trying to prevent the succession of the Duke of 
York to the English throne because he was a Papist, 
Dryden had no quarrel with Shaftesbury, who was not 
a bad man; and, although his sympathies may have 
been genuinely with the King, the Duke of York, and 
the Tory party, his chief motive to the attack seems 
to have been to win new favor and patronage from 
the powerful court party. The poem was an immense 
success. The Whigs chafed under the attack, and 
produced some replies. These led to Dryden's dash- 



INTRODUCTION xix 

ing off a second satire against Shaftesbury, The Medal, 
which stirred up still angrier strife. Among the re- 
plies to it was one by the leading Whig poet, Thomas 
Shadwell. It was savagely personal, and Dryden was 
so angered by it that he decided to pillory the offend- 
ing poet. This he did by his Mac Flecknoe, or a Satire 
on the True Blue Protestant Poet, T. S., in which he 
poured upon Shadwell (Mac Flecknoe ; that is, the 
son of Flecknoe, a ridiculous rhymester who bored his 
countrymen with his voluminous dulness) such con- 
temptuous, witty scorn as no malefactor had ever 
brought down upon himself. This poem was followed 
by a second part of Absalom and Achitophel, written 
by Dryden' s friend 1ST ahum Tate (a nonentity who 
later became Poet Laureate), with the exception of 
two hundred powerful lines which Dryden himself 
contributed. 

Dryden, having within a year produced these master- 
pieces of satire, turned now to take part in the re- 
ligious polemics of the time, which were intermixed 
with its political controversies. First, in 1682, he 
published his Religio Laici (A Layman's Eeligion), 
a skilful defence of the religion of the Church of Eng- 
land. It shows his masculine intellectual power and 
his gift of clear and effective presentation. That it 
was evidence of his sincerity and earnestness of con- 
viction cannot, however, be added; for on the death 



XX INTRODUCTION 

of Charles II. and the accession of James II., who 
was a Roman Catholic, Dryden became most con- 
veniently a convert to Catholicism, and in 1687 gave, 
in The Hind and the Panther, a defence of his new 
creed. This poem, too, exhibits Dryden's unusual 
powers of thought, and the energy and precision of 
his style, at their ripest; indeed, as we read it, we 
cannot help feeling that its admirable stylistic quali- 
ties go far toward warranting Mr. Saintsbury's asser- 
tion that Dryden is, " without exception, the greatest 
craftsman in English letters." Not the most inspired 
writer — far from it ; but a victorious craftsman, who 
has conquered his craft by years of assiduous practice, 
those long years of journeyman effort upon the drama. 
He had mastered the technique of his art, not alone 
by this practice, but by serious studies of the great 
masters, of his native tongue, and of the best criticism 
both of the ancients and of the new French school. 
He has himself told us that at one period (about 1673) 
he most carefully reread the English poets who, to 
his mind, had most to teach him, — Waller, Denham, 
Cowley, Milton, and Spenser, — with an eye to their 
turns of word and thought ; and all this study bore 
its fruit in the works which, beginning with Absalom 
and Achitophel, he produced after his fiftieth year, 
and upon which his reputation almost entirely rests. 
Among these successes of his maturity, we must 



INTRODUCTION XXI 

notice especially his Ode to the Pious Memory of the Ac- 
complished Young Lady, Mrs. [Mistress = Miss] Anne 
Killigrew, prefixed to a volume of that young woman's 
poems published in 1686 ; the ode which Dr. Johnson 
regarded as "undoubtedly the noblest ode our lan- 
guage ever has produced " ; and the Ode for St. Ce- 
cilia's Day, written in the following year, which, while 
not equal to his second in honor of the same occa- 
sion, the Alexander's Feast, is yet one of his most 
attractive compositions. 

The Revolution of 1688, which drove James II. 
from the throne, and installed William and Mary in 
his place, brought misfortune for Dryden. Being a 
Roman Catholic, — and this time he did not, like the 
Vicar of Bray in the popular old ballad, change with 
the times, — he was deprived of his offices of Poet 
Laureate, Historiographer Royal, and Collector of Cus- 
toms for London. Although some of his wealthy 
friends seem to have helped him privately, he was 
in great financial straits, and had recourse once more 
to the drama as a means of support. Between 1688 
and 1694 he produced four plays (one of them a suc- 
cess), and a strikingly successful dramatic opera, for 
which the musician Purcell, perhaps the greatest of 
English musicians, composed the music. He was 
also busy with various translations of the Latin clas- 
sics ; and in 1693 began his great translation of Vir- 



xxii INTRODUCTION 

gil, which he finished in 1696, and published in 1697. 
This brought him about £1200, which was an unpre- 
cedently large return for a literary venture in those 
days. He had received valuable assistance in his 
work ; among others, Addison, then a rising young 
author, contributed the arguments of the several books, 
and an Essay on the Georgics. The work was an in- 
stant success, and a second revised edition soon fol- 
lowed the first. 

Dryden indomitably kept up his struggle against 
poverty to the last. His crowning achievement was 
the Alexander's Feast, already referred to, composed 
in 1697, soon after he had published his Virgil, and, 
according to a probable story, written at a white heat 
in a single night. The next year he began to work 
upon his versions of stories by Chaucer, Boccaccio, 
and Ovid, which he published in 1699 as a volume 
of Fables. He was a sick old man, upon whom the 
shadow of death already rested. " Betwixt my inter- 
vals of physick and other remedies," he writes to a 
charming young kinswoman, who showed him much 
attention, " I am still drudging on ; always a poet 
and never a good one. I pass my time sometimes 
with Ovid and sometimes with our old English poet, 
Chaucer, translating such stories as best please my 
fancy." He was gratified by the public's apprecia- 
tive reception of his volume of Fables ; and with new 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

hopes, despite his sickness, planned to translate 
Homer. But the end was near. He died on May 
Day, 1700. His last years and days were sweetened 
by the devotion of friends ; and on his death he re- 
ceived the honors of a splendid public funeral. The 
body was taken with an imposing escort of a hundred 
carriages from the College of Physicians, where it had 
lain in state, to Westminster Abbey, and was buried 
there in the Poets' Corner, close to the graves of Chaucer 
and Cowley. For more than twenty years there had 
been no one who disputed with him the first place in 
literary England ; and his funeral had the dignity of 
a national mourning. 

A good impression of the poet's personality is pre- 
served for us in Godfrey Kneller's portrait of him, 
painted toward the close of his life, in 1698. It is a 
strong, handsome face ; bespeaking above all things 
the conquering energy of his robust intellect, and — 
despite the rather heavy, sensuous fulness, which ex- 
plains the gross element in his work — the amiable dis- 
position that won him so many friends. He had the 
ruddy hue of health, — " cherry -cheeked," as Shad- 
well called him, — save for a large mole on the right 
cheek ; sleepy, downcast eyes that were unusually 
far apart ; long and luxuriant gray hair. He was 
short and stout, — " plump," as Pope remembered him; 
of pleasing address; rather shy and retiring toward 



xxiv INTRODUCTION 

strangers, easy and lively with friends. It was not 
an overmastering personality ; not the personality 
of a man of original and unique genius. It might 
have been, perhaps, had he not fallen on evil days ; 
but he was subdued to the pettiness of a little and 
infertile age, and took all too yieldingly the impress 
of its littleness. And yet Dryden has a certain vigor- 
ous largeness by which he obviously outranks all his 
contemporary scribes, with some exception in favor of 
the only man who in that barren close of the seven- 
teenth century gave us, in The Pilgrim's Progress, 
a work that has the amplitude of a classic. "The 
greatest man of a little age," such Dryden was in- 
deed; but that little age, because it was an age of 
transition, and a turning-point in literary history, we 
must know something about before we can truly ap- 
praise the work which Dryden, its greatest influence, 
did for it. 

III. HIS AGE AND HIS SEKVICE TO IT 

When Arnold says that Dryden and Pope are " clas- 
sics of our prose," he means that, although the bulk 
of their work is in verse, yet that verse is distin- 
guished by the qualities that go to the making of 
good prose rather than of good poetry 5 the qualities of 
clearness, precision, measure, order, good sense. In the 



INTRODUCTION XXV 

qualities of imagination and passion, which are those 
of great poetry, they are singularly lacking. Those 
had been the luxuriant qualities of Elizabethan litera- 
ture, and survived under the stress of an exalting re- 
ligious enthusiasm in the work of Milton. But the 
Age of the Restoration, to which Dry den belonged, was 
an age of emotional exhaustion. It sought relaxation 
and rest after a period of intense feeling and stormy 
activity. It wished to live leisurely through the 
senses and the understanding, and not to be worried 
by the deeper and graver problems of life. The Eng- 
lish people, after concerning themselves through Spen- 
ser and Shakespeare and Milton, through Sidney and 
Bacon and Sir Thomas Browne, with the grander as- 
pects of human destiny and the more tragic issues 
of human life ; after recalling with great imaginative 
daring and profound emotional realization the great 
crises and swaying personalities of human history ; — 
turned with a sigh of relief to their home affairs, and 
to humbler, more domestic, more commonplace themes. 
They wished to be gently interested and amused by 
an entertaining, facile treatment of familiar topics and 
current events. 

This change of interest and temper is strikingly 
shown by the titles and subject-matter of Dry den's 
poems. They deal with passing incidents ; they are 
largely " occasional." When Dryden does take other, 



xxvi INTRODUCTION 

broader themes, he is generally a borrower and 
adapter, or a translator. A true child of his age, 
whose imprint he so readily takes, he has no deep- 
rooted, inspiring convictions of his own ; no philoso- 
phy that gives rich tone and color to his life ; no well 
of spontaneous feeling ; no rush of impulse that stirs 
him to write. What he does, he does calculatingly, 
according to precedent, or by rules which he has been 
trying to work ont for himself. When he began to 
write, poetry was becoming hopelessly artificial, and 
was stuccoed with extravagant conceits that were mere 
shams of the exuberant richness of an earlier age. 
Dryden, although he set out by aping this manner, and 
was always a little artificial, did to a considerable ex- 
tent react against it, and inaugurated a new sincerity 
and directness of style. He ceased for the most part 
to strain a-tiptoe after the ornaments of an age of 
really rich fancy and imagination ; and failing of in- 
spiration, worked by method and " pale forethought!" 
He would indulge in no practices and tricks which 
he could not justify by common-sense principles ; and 
whenever he made a new departure, he generally tried 
to justify it in one of those interesting dissertations 
which he prefixed to his works. In other words, be- 
hind the poet stood the critic. Dryden, then, repre- 
sents for the first time in English literary history 
this conscious critical attitude ; and initiates a century 



INTRODUCTION xxvil 

which is in the main a century of calm, critical pro- 
cedure. Not that he of himself gave a sudden turn 
to literary history, or was a sole innovator. The drift 
of things was in this direction when he began his 
career, and he had had forerunners like Waller and 
Denham ; but it was he who gave the stamp of perma- 
nence to what had been before merely a tentative and 
hesitating tendency. 

This was a very valuable service to perforin, even 
if it resulted for a time in an overpruning of the 
luxuriance of poetic growth. It led to a more scrupu- 
lous regard for literary form, and to the development 
of a stricter literary conscience. Literary products 
were now brought to the test of certain standards of 
correct taste which criticism tried to formulate on the 
basis of a comparative study of ancient and modern 
literature, aided by the critical insight of Aristotle, 
Longinus, Horace, and other ancient masters, and of 
Corneille, St. Evremond, Bossu, Boileau, and the mod- 
ern French school. Dry den's own work showed the 
happier consequences of this in its more scrupulous 
choice of diction, in a more varied accent and cadence, 
in an evenness and finish which had been wanting 
before his day. Up to his time, says Dr. Johnson, 
"the verse that was smooth was commonly feeble. 
Dryden knew how to choose the flowing and sonorous 
words ; to vary the pauses and adjust the accents ; to 



XX Vli 1 INTR OB UCTION 

diversify the cadence, and yet preserve the smoothness 
of his metre." 

It will not be easy for the young student, — or, for the 
sake of directness, let me say " for yon," — to prove 
this for yourself, without going a little farther afield 
in your work than time or opportunity will permit. 
But if you will take any good volume of selections ; 
if you will consult, for instance, George's excellent 
Chaucer to Arnold and read there the fragment from 
Marlowe's Hero and Leander (p. 131), and Ben Jon- 
son's lines to Shakespeare (p. 166) ; and if you will 
then pass at once to Dryden's mature work, say, to the 
lines from the Dedication of Palamon and Arcite given 
in the Appendix; — you will surely appreciate the new 
strength that knits Dryden's couplets, their smooth 
finish, and unembarrassed movement. And yet this 
does not mean that Dryden is a greater poet than either 
Marlowe or Jonson. There are strains in Marlowe (e.g. 
the scene beginning on p. 128 of George ; or the song 
on pp. 130, 131) and in Jonson (e.g. the lines on p. 162; 
or the song on p. 163) which are quite beyond Dryden's 
compass for both height and depth of passion and 
imagination. What it does mean is that Dryden is a 
more exact and curious workman, who brings to his 
work better instruments of critical understanding than 
his predecessors brought. His higher finish, his sus- 
tained equality of craftsmanship, you will find in his 



INTROD UCTION xxix 

rendering of Chaucer : what you will not find is the 
inspired poetic insight, passion, and imagination which 
are present in Chaucer, along with his often rough 
and sometimes slipshod workmanship. 

These workmanlike ways of Dryden,-his conscious 
command of resources, his ingenuity, his good sense, 
his unflagging yet restrained energy, found scope no 
less in prose than in poetry. Apply a few tests here 
also. Turn to Mr. George's selections from Sidney 
(say p. 53 : note, e.g. the sentences beginning on 1. 11 
or on 1. 19), and Hooker (p. 105, especially 11. 15-22), 
and Jonson (pp. 169, 170, especially the opening sen- 
tences) ; and then pass on to the prose selection from 
Dry den (p. 209). You will find an obvious gain in 
clearness, and grace, and in the structure and arrange- 
ment of his sentences. If we take him at his best, this 
gain is still more obvious. The following paragraph, 
from the Dedication of one of his comedies, will both 
show thisf&nd will enlarge our appreciation of Dryden's 
historical importance as " the puissant and glorious 
founder of our age of prose and reason " — to quote 
Arnold again. 

Thus, rny lord, the morning of your life was clear and 
calm ; and though it was afterwards overcast, yet in that 
general storm you were never without a shelter. And now 
you are happily arrived to the evening of a day as serene as 
the dawn of it was glorious ; but such an evening as I hope, 



XXX INTRODUCTION 

and almost prophesy, is far from night. 'Tis the evening 
of a summer's sun which keeps the daylight long within the 
skies. The health of your body is maintained by the vigour 
of your mind ; neither does the one shrink from the fatigue of 
exercise, nor the other bend under the pains of study. Me- 
thinks I behold in you another Caius Marius, who, in the 
extremity of his age, exercised himself almost every morning 
in the Campus Martius amongst the youthful nobility of Rome. 
And afterwards, in your retirements, when you do honour to 
poetry, by employing part of your leisure in it, I regard you 
as another Silius Italicus, who having passed over his consul- 
ship with applause, dismissed himself from business and from 
the gown, and employed his age amongst the shades in the 
reading and imitation of Virgil. 

That is the prose of to-day, at its best; as far re- 
moved from the rich yet straggling and involved prose 
of his contemporary, Milton, as the mighty organ tones 
and harmonies of Milton's poetry are from the quieter 
piano tones of Dryden's. 



IV. HIS "PALAMON AND AECITE " 

Not a little of the interest attaching to Palamon 
and Artite is due to the unique opportunity we get 
of comparing the manners of two great English poets. 
Dry den attempts in this work something more than 
to make Chaucer intelligible, by getting rid of his 



INTRODUCTION xxxi 

obsolete inflections and syntax, and his archaic dic- 
tion : he attempts to make him over to snit the taste 
of his time; and, despite his reverence for Chancer, 
he tricks him out with a generous allowance of 
well-starched ruffles, and gaudy bows and trinkets, to 
satisfy his audience's love of finery. It is as if one 
should attempt to transform an early Gothic building, 
so free and fanciful in its seemingly unpremeditated 
effects, to the studied formalism — charming in its 
way, too, — of the neo-classic style with its rococo 
adornments. The transformation, when it is in the 
hands of a master like Dryden, is interesting and in- 
structive. If we begin — as, of course, we shall — 
by studying Dryden's poem, and becoming familiar 
with it as a whole and in its parts, — say, as we might 
get to know a cathedral, with all its lady-chapels and 
niches and cloisters, — we shall come to feel an eager 
curiosity as to what the building which speaks to 
us here and there, both in its broad structural effects 
and in its small unchanged details, really was as it 
originally stood. And we shall turn to it the more 
eagerly when we are assured that, attractive as the 
" improved " structure is, the original was even more 
so. Thus it is, then, that Dryden, the skilful adapter, 
although he is greatly worth knowing, on his own 
account, acquires additional value because through 
him we may become acquainted with Chaucer, the 



xxxii INTRODUCTION 

first builder of this fair structure on English 
soil. 

You will begin, then, by putting Chaucer out of 
mind, and enjoying Palamon and Arcite on its merits. 
The story is a good one, full of quick movement and 
glowing color: the mingled hues of the god-haunted 
Hellenic and the chivalrous mediaeval worlds ; colors 
of sunlight and shadow, joy and anguish, beauty and 
ruin. A friendship between two youths, suddenly 
turned to bitter enmity by the appearance of a beauti- 
ful maiden whom they both love at first sight, and 
strive for to the death, — that is the theme; but it 
is elaborated with great richness of minor incident, 
so varied and changeful that it must needs appeal to 
every taste. Picture follows picture in rapid succes- 
sion : valiant, imperial Theseus spreading his royal 
banner in the wind as he leads to victory his host, 
the flower of Grecian chivalry; fair Emily, "fairer 
than the lily," who queens it over the cheerful May, 
and sings her May-day carol " like an angel " ; the two 
gracious youths in prison, suddenly smitten with a 
fatal love that brings sharpest pain with its sweet- 
ness ; their angry meeting and grim combat in the 
woods ; the magnificence of Theseus' provision for the 
public combat that is to decide their fate ; the match- 
less shrines of Venus and Mars and Diana ; the dazzling 
pageantry of the combatants' procession, and of the 



INTRODUCTION xxxiii 

scene at the lists ; the dying victor, pathetically recon- 
ciled to his more fortunate brother-in-arms ; the funeral 
pomp, and the final blissful union of Palamon and 
Emily, — all these, and more, are unfolded to us. Who 
will follow them without keen interest and deep 
delight ? 

The poem was written to give pleasure, and we 
must first of all read it with a relish for the pure 
pleasure of it. Choose a happy moment and a cosey 
corner, and taste the whole bitter-sweet of it. Forget 
that you con a text-book ; forget that there are notes, 
and an introduction, with recitations to follow ; and 
try to lose yourself in the tale. Recall old England, 
and that leisurely journey of knight, squire, miller, 
parson, monk, nun, and the rest, to famous Canterbury ; 
and listen to the veritable accents of the gallant 
knight as he tells his story of love and war. 

In this first reading you will have missed much of 
the beauty and significance of the poem. Some words 
and allusions and constructions you will, no doubt, 
have failed to understand. You must aim now at a 
deeper appreciation of it ; and here the notes will help 
you. Have by you, if you can, a good English Diction- 
ary and a Classical Dictionary, and, if you have read 
Chaucer, a copy of his Knight's Tale (the small Clarendon 
Press edition is handy). Keep within reach, too, those 
English classics you have read, and especially the vol- 



xxxiv INTRODUCTION 

umes required for entrance to college. You will find 
some allusion to these in the notes, and it is very 
desirable that you should use the knowledge gained 
through them to help you in reading Dryden ; besides, 
there is great enjoyment in recognizing as former 
friends special words and allusions, thoughts, and 
sentiments which challenge and move you as you 
read. 

Your aim will be, of course, not merely to under- 
stand the lines, but to feel them, to respond to their 
beauty. That is what you are to look for, beauty ; 
if you miss that, you miss the supreme thing. Many 
of the notes aim to help you in this search, and to draw 
your attention to certain beauties you may overlook. 
And you will find nothing more helpful as a means to 
this end than frequent comparison of Dry den's lines with 
Chaucer's. The beauty of a thing is often strikingly, 
startlingly, brought home to us, by comparing it 
with something of the same kind that is higher or 
lower in the scale of beauty than it. The beauty of 
Dryden may sometimes pale before the more glori- 
ous beauty of Chaucer; sometimes it will appear as 
beauty of a different kind — just as there is one beauty 
of the sun and another beauty of the moon. The com- 
parison ought to open your eyes and hearts to many 
things ; it ought to form and refine your taste ; it 
ought to yield a deeper delight in the beauties of style, 



INTRODUCTION XXXV 

of musical speech and suggestive imagery, of noble 
emotion, of true thought. 

Especially the music of verse ought to be a continual 
delight to you, and to enjoy that music fully you ought 
to read the verse aloud. Make a habit of this, remem- 
bering that poetry is meant to charm through the 
ear. Read aloud to yourself as well as you can, quite 
apart from class reading, all the passages that strike 
you. Memorize the best of these, and try to bring out 
all their sweetness and power in declamation. The 
poem lends itself to this vocal rendering. After 
awhile you will begin to appreciate the special effects of 
the couplet form ; the steady tread of the iambus — each 
couplet an orderly, almost stately, step forward in the 
narrative ; the pace quickening at times as the passion 
gathers, then slowing down to its normal speed again. 

In this way you will come to appreciate the charm 
of variety in Dryden's skilful changes in the pauses 
and in the feet. To take an example, note how effec- 
tive is the change in the first foot from an iambus to 
a trochee, how expressive the change of emphasis, in 
such a line as this (I., 182) in the course of the beautiful 
description of Emily : — 

/- \j \j — \j \j \j \j 

Fresh as | the month || and as | the morn | ing fair. 

We feel the very breath of morning freshness sweep 
through the line. 



XXXVI INTRODUCTION 

Dryden further varies the verse occasionally by ex- 
panding the couplet into a triplet, and by lengthening 
his pentameter into a hexameter, or Alexandrine, as 
it is technically called. The following triplet (II., 
560), concluding with an Alexandrine, illustrates both 
changes together : — 

There saw I how the secret felon wrought, 

And treason labouring in the traitor's thought, 

And midwife Time the ripened plot to murder brought. 

The effect, in spite of the unusual ellipses, is felici- 
tous ; for it carries the suggestion by the third 
line of a delayed closing of the thought, while we 
follow the still riveted gaze of the onlooker. Note 
also the emphasis on the opening "there," as of a 
pointed finger. This effect is repeated in the line 
which follows these three. Here it is, with three 
additional lines, which will illustrate well enough 
other varieties in the pauses : — 

There the red Anger dared the pallid Fear ; 
Next stood Hypocrisy, with holy leer, 
Soft, smiling, and demurely looking down, 
But hid the dagger underneath the gown. 

In reading, we secure the right effects only by giving 
due emphasis to "next" in the second line, and by 
making significantly variable and leisurely pauses 
after each of the words and phrases separated by 



INTRODUCTION xxxvil 

commas. By reason of these and other changes akin 
to them, the poem never becomes monotonous; and 
the unfailing vigor of Dryden's masculine verse is an 
antidote to tedionsness. 

Occasionally, some of Dryden's elisions and slurred 
syllables trouble us. We must get accustomed to 
eliding the " e " in " the " before a vowel : — 

Opposed to her, on the other side advance — II., 490. 

All for the increase of arms, and love of chivalry ; — III. , 96. 

and to a similar, but less frequent, elision like this : — 

To adorn with pagan rites the power armipotent. 

Again, the following typical line calls for a slurring of 
the first two syllables of the word " tapestry." 

Rich tapestry spread the streets, and flowers the posts adorn. — 
III., 104. 

Then Dryden is often very free in his rhymes ; as 
when " guests " rhymes with " feasts " (III., 115), and 
" pestilence " with " prince " (III., 412). But the pro- 
nunciation of Dryden's time made good rhymes of what 
are to us bad ones. Thus " draught " rhymed for the ear 
with "brought" (II., 18), "bow" with "now" (II., 
231), "seas" with "sways" (III., 296), "shewed" 
(or " showed ") with " strewed " (III., 589), "wound" 



xxxvill INTRODUCTION 

with, "ground/' "joy" with, "sky/' probably (II., 
426). 

Besides the interest in and enjoyment of the style 
or poetic art of the poem, is the interest in the char- 
acters and in the plot. Chaucer shows great mastery 
in both of these matters. Palamon (" the lion ") and 
Arcite (" the tiger ") have very distinct individualities, 
which the student of character will find it worth while 
to work out. Royal Theseus too is a well-realized 
personality; and so are such lightly drawn figures 
as those of the warriors, surly Lucurgus and fierce- 
eyed Emetrius. The plot is a triumph of Chaucer's 
practised, ripest skill — the skill of our most delight- 
ful and artful story-teller in verse. It is unnecessary 
to enter into a detailed discussion of these matters, 
as the most important questions that arise in connec- 
tion with them are drawn attention to in the notes ; 
and it is better that they should be taken up as they 
are raised by the text. 

It is to be hoped that the reading of Palamon and 
Arcite will awaken in you a desire to know more of 
both Dryden and Chaucer. If it does, read first more 
of their poetry : Dry den's Odes and Mac Flecknoe, at 
least; and Chaucer's Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, 
at the very least. To fill out your knowledge of Dry- 
den's life and times, read the essays by Dr. Johnson, 
Saintsbury (English Men of Letters Series), Lowell 



INTRODUCTION xxxix 

(in part) ; and turn to Green's account of the period in 
his History of the English People. Chaucer you may 
come closer to by using Corson's selections from The 
Canterbury Tales. Lastly, it will be well to compare with 
Chaucer's epic treatment of his theme the dramatic 
treatment presented in the fine play, The Two Noble 
Kinsmen, in which the critics recognize some of Shake- 
speare's handiwork. Read these, if you can read them 
with relish, but not as distasteful task-work. Read 
to enjoy, read heartily ; for only interest and delight 
will give the keys to that Kingdom of Enchantment 
which Ave call Literature. 



PALAMON AND ARCITE 

OR THE KNIGHT'S TALE 

FROM CHAUCER 

IN THKEE BOOKS 
Book I 

In days of old there lived, of mighty fame, 
A valiant Prince, and Theseus was his name ; 
A chief, who more in feats of arms excelled, 
The rising nor the setting sun beheld. 
Of Athens he was lord ; much land he won, 
And added foreign countries to his crown. 
In Scythia with the warrior Queen he strove, 
Whom first by force he conquered, then by love ; 
He brought in triumph back the beauteous dame, 
With whom her sister, fair Emilia, came. 
With honour to his home let Theseus ride, 
With Love to friend, and Fortune for his guide, 
And his victorious army at his side. 

B 1 



2 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

1° pass their warlike pomp, their proud array, 
Their shouts, their songs, their welcome on the way ; 15 
But, were it not too long, I would recite 
The feats of Amazons, the fatal fight 
Betwixt the hardy Queen and hero Knight ; 
The town besieged, and how much blood it cost 
The female army, and the Athenian host ; 20 

The spousals of Hippolyta the Queen ; 
What tilts and turneys at the feast were seen ; 
The storm at their return, the ladies' fear : 
Bat these and other things I must forbear. 
The field is spacious I design to sow 25 

With oxen far unfit to draw the plough : 
The remnant of my tale is of a length 
To tire your patience, and to waste my strength ; 
And trivial accidents shall be forborn, 
That others may have time to take their turn, 30 

As was at first enjoined us by mine host, 
That he, whose tale is best and pleases most, 
Should win his supper at our common cost. 
And therefore where I left, I will pursue 
This ancient story, whether false or true, 35 

In hope it may be mended with a new.° 
The Prince I mentioned, full of high renown, 
In this array drew near the Athenian town ; 



BOOK I 3 

When, in his pomp and utmost of his pride 

Marching, he chanced to cast his eye aside, 40 

And saw a quire of mourning dames, who lay 

By two and two across the common way : 

At his approach they raised a rueful cry, 

And beat their breasts, and held their hands on high, 

Creeping and crying, till they seized at last 45 

His courser's bridle and his feet embraced. 

" Tell me," said Theseus, " what and whence you are, 

And why this funeral pageant you prepare ? 

Is this the welcome of my worthy deeds, 

To meet my triumph in ill-omened weeds ?° 50 

Or envy you my praise, and would destroy 

With grief my pleasures, and pollute my joy ? 

Or are you injured, and demand relief ? 

Name your request, and I will ease your grief." 

The most in years of all the mourning train 55 

Began ; but s wounded first away for pain ; 
Then scarce recovered spoke: "Nor envy we 
Thy great renown, nor grudge thy victory ; 
'Tis thine, King, the afflicted to redress, 
And fame has filled the world with thy success : 60 
We wretched women sue for that alone, 
Which of thy goodness is refused to none ; 
Let fall some drops of pity on our grief, 



4 PAL AM ON AND ARCITE 

If what we beg be just, and we deserve relief ; ° 

For none of us, who now thy grace implore, 65 

But held the rank of sovereign queen before ; 

Till, thanks to giddy Chance, which never bears 

That mortal bliss should last for length of years, 

She cast us headlong from our high estate, 

And here in hope of thy return we wait, 70 

And long have waited in the temple nigh, 

Built to the gracious goddess Clemency. 

But reverence thou the power whose name it bears, 

Relieve the oppressed, and wipe the widows' tears. 

I, wretched I, have other fortune seen, 75 

The wife of Capaneus, and once a Queen ; 

At Thebes he fell ; cursed be the fatal day ! 

And all the rest thou seest in this array 

To make their moan their lords in battle lost, 

Before that town besieged by our confederate host. 80 

But Creon, old and impious, who commands 

The Theban city, and usurps the lands, 

Denies the rites of funeral fires to those 

Whose breathless bodies yet he calls his foes. 

Unburned, unburied, on a heap they lie ; ° 85 

Such is their fate, and such his tyranny ; 

No friend has leave to bear away the dead, 

But with their lifeless limbs his hounds are fed." 



BOOK I 5 

At this she shrieked aloud ; the mournful train 
Echoed her grief, and grovelling on the plain, 90 

With groans, and hands upheld, to move his mind, 
Besought his pity to their helpless kind. 

The Prince was touched, his tears began to flow, 
And, as° his tender heart would break in two, 
He sighed ; and could not but their fate deplore, 95 
So wretched now, so fortunate before. 
Then lightly from his lofty steed he flew, 
And raising one by one the suppliant crew, 
To comfort each, full solemnly he swore, 
That by the faith which knights to knighthood bore, 100 
And what e'er else to chivalry belongs, 
He would not cease, till he revenged their wrongs ; 
That Greece should see performed what he declared, 
And cruel Creon find his just reward. 
He said no more, but shunning all delay 105 

Rode on, nor entered Athens on his way ; 
But left his sister and his queen behind, 
And waved his royal banner in the wind, 
Where in an argent field the God of War 
Was drawn triumphant on his iron car ; ° no 

Red was his sword, and shield, and whole attire, 
And all the godhead seemed to glow with fire; 
Even the ground glittered where the standard flew, 



6 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

And the green grass was dyed to sanguine hue. 

High on his pointed lance his pennon bore 115 

His Cretan fight, the conquered Minotaur : 

The soldiers shout around with generous rage,° 

And in that victory their own presage. 

He praised their ardour, inly pleased to see 

His host, the flower of Grecian chivalry. 120 

All day he marched, and all the ensuing night, 

And saw the city with returning light. 

The process of the war I need not tell, 

How Theseus conquered, and how Creon fell ; 

Or after, how by storm the walls were won, 125 

Or how the victor sacked and burned the town ; 

How to the ladies he restored again 

The bodies of their lords in battle slain ; 

And with what ancient rites they were interred ; 

All these to fitter time shall be deferred : 130 

I spare the widows' tears, their woful cries, 

And howling at their husbands' obsequies ; 

How Theseus at these funerals did assist, 

And with what gifts the mourning dames dismissed. 

Thus when the victor chief had Creon slain, 135 

And conquered Thebes, he pitched upon the plain 
His mighty camp, and when the day returned, 
The country wasted and the hamlets burned, 



BOOK I 7 

And left the pillagers, to rapine bred, 

Without control to strip and spoil the dead. i 4 o 

There, in a heap of slain, among the rest 
Two youthful knights they fonnd beneath a load op- 
pressed 
Of slaughtered foes, whom first to death they sent, 
The trophies of their strength, a bloody monument. 
Both fair, and both of royal blood they seemed, 145 
Whom kinsmen to the crown the heralds deemed ; 
That day in equal arms they fought for fame; 
Their swords, their shields, their surcoats were the 

same : 
Close by each other laid they pressed the ground, 
Their manly bosoms pierced with many a grisly 
wound; 150 

Nor well alive nor wholly dead they were, 
But some faint signs of feeble life appear ; 
The wandering breath was on the wing to part, 
Weak was the pulse, and hardly heaved the heart. 
These two were sisters' sons; and Arcite one, 155 

Much famed in fields, with valiant Palamon. 
From these their costly arms the spoilers rent, 
And softly both conveyed to Theseus' tent : 
Whom, known of Creon's line and cured with care, 
He to his city sent as prisoners of the war ; 160 



8 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Hopeless of ransom, and condemned to lie 
In durance, doomed a lingering death to die. 

This done, he marched away with warlike sound, 
And to his Athens turned with laurels crowned, 
Where happy long he lived, much loved, and more 

renowned. 165 

But in a tower, and never to be loosed, 
The woful captive kinsmen are enclosed. 

Thus year by year they pass, and day by day, 
Till once ('twas on the morn of cheerful May°) 
The young Emilia, fairer to be seen 170 

Than the fair lily on the flowery green, 
More fresh than May herself in blossoms new, 
(For with the rosy colour strove her hue,) 
Waked, as her custom was, before the day, 
To do the observance due to sprightly May; 175 

For sprightly May commands our youth to keep 
The vigils of her night, and breaks their sluggard 

sleep ;° 
Each gentle breast with kindly warmth she moves ; 
Inspires new flames, revives extinguished loves. 
In this remembrance Emily ere day 180 

Arose, and dressed herself in rich array ; 
Fresh as the month, and as the morning fair, 
Adown her shoulders fell her length of hair : 



BOOK I 9 

A ribband did the braided tresses bind, 

The rest was loose, and wantoned in the wind : 185 

Aurora had but newly chased the night, 

And purpled o'er the sky with blushing light. 

When to the garden-walk she took her way, 

To sport and trip along in cool of day, 

And offer maiden vows in honour of the May. 190 

At every turn she made a little stand, 
And thrust among the thorns her lily hand 
To draw the rose ; and every rose she drew, 
She shook the stalk, and brushed away the dew ; 
Then party-coloured flowers of white and red 195 

She wove, to make a garland for her head : 
This done, she sung and carolled out so clear, 
That men and angels might rejoice to hear; 
Even wondering Philomel forgot to sing, 
And learned from her to welcome in the spring. 200 
The tower, of which before was mention made, 
Within whose keep the captive knights were laid, 
Built of a large extent, and strong withal, 
Was one partition of the palace wall ; ° 
The garden was enclosed within the square, 205 

Where young Emilia took the morning air. 

It happened Palamon, the prisoner knight, 
Restless for woe, arose before the light, 



10 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

And with his jailor's leave desired to breathe 

An air' more wholesome than the damps beneath. 210 

This granted, to the tower he took his way, 

Cheered with the promise of a glorious day ; 

Then cast a languishing regard aronnd, 

And saw with hateful eyes the temples crowned 

With golden spires, and all the hostile ground. 215 

He sighed, and turned his eyes, because he knew 

'Twas but a larger jail he had in view; 

Then looked below, and from the castle's height 

Beheld a nearer and more pleasing sight ; 

The garden, which before he had not seen, 220 

In spring's new livery clad of white and green, 

Fresh flowers in wide parterres, and shady walks 

between. 
This viewed, but not enjoyed, with arms across 
He stood, reflecting on his country's loss ; 
Himself an object of the public scorn, 225 

And often wished he never had been born. 
At last (for so his destiny required), 
With walking giddy, and with thinking tired, 
He through a little window cast his sight, 
Though thick of bars, that gave a scanty light ; 230 
But even that glimmering served him to descry 
The inevitable charms of Emily. 



BOOK I 11 

Scarce had he seen, but, seized with sudden smart, 
Stung to the quick, he felt it at his heart ; 
Struck blind with overpowering light he stood, 235 
Then started back amazed, and cried aloud. 

Young Arcite heard ; and up he ran with haste, 
To help his friend, and in his arms embraced ; 
And asked him why he looked so deadly wan, 
And whence, and how, his change of cheer began ? 240 
Or who had done the offence ? " But if," said he, 
" Your grief alone is hard captivity, 
For love of Heaven with patience undergo 
A cureless ill, since Fate will have it so : 
So stood our horoscope in chains to lie, 245 

And Saturn in the dungeon of the sky, 
Or other baleful aspect, ruled our birth, 
When all the friendly stars were under earth ; ° 
Whate'er betides, by Destiny 'tis done ; 
And better bear like men than vainly seek to shun." 250 
" Nor of my bonds," said Palamon again, 
" Nor of unhappy planets I complain ; 
But when my mortal anguish caused my cry, 
The moment 1 was hurt through either eye ; 
Pierced with a random shaft, I faint away, 255 

And perish with insensible decay : 
A glance of some new goddess gave the wound, 



12 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Whom, like Actaeon, unaware I found. 
Look how she walks along yon shady space ; 
Not Juno moves with more majestic grace, 260 

And all the Cyprian queen is in her face. 
If thou art Venus (for thy charms confess 
That face was formed in heaven), nor art thou less, 
Disguised in habit, undisguised in shape, 
help us captives from our chains to scape ! 265 

But if our doom be past in bonds to lie 
For life, and in a loathsome dungeon die, 
Then be thy wrath appeased with our disgrace, 
And show compassion to the Theban race, 
Oppressed by tyrant power ! " — While yet he spoke, 270 
Arcite on Emily had fixed his look ; 
The fatal dart a ready passage found 
And deep within his heart infixed the wound : 
So that if Palamon were wounded sore, 
Arcite was hurt as much as he or more : 275 

Then from his inmost soul he sighed, and said, 
" The beauty I behold has struck me dead : 
Unknowingly she strikes, and kills by chance ; 
Poison is in her eyes, and death in every glance. 
Oh, I must ask ; nor ask alone, but move 280 

Her mind to mercy, or must die for love." 
Thus Arcite : and thus Palamon replies 



BOOK I 13 

(Eager his tone, and ardent were his eyes,) 

" Speakst thou in earnest, or in jesting vein ?" 

"Jesting," said Arcite, " suits but ill with pain." 285 

" It suits far worse," (said Palamon again, 

And bent his brows,) " with men who honour weigh, 

Their faith to break, their friendship to betray ; 

But worst with thee, of noble lineage born, 

My kinsman, and in arms my brother sworn. 290 

Have we not plighted each our holy oath, 

That one should be the common good of both ; 

One soul should both inspire, and neither prove 

His fellow's hindrance in pursuit of love ? 

To this before the Gods we gave our hands, 295 

And nothing but our death can break the bands. 

This binds thee, then, to farther my design, 

As I am bound by vow to farther thine : 

Nor canst, nor darest thou, traitor, on the plain 

Appeach my honour, or thy own maintain, 300 

Since thou art of my council, and the friend 

Whose faith I trust, and on whose care depend. 

And wouldst thou court my lady's love, which I 

Much rather than release, would choose to die ? 

But thou, false Arcite, never shalt obtain, 305 

Thy bad pretence ; ° I told thee first my pain : 

For first my love began ere thine was born ; 



14 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Thou as my council, and my brother sworn, 

Art bound to assist my eldership of right, 

Or justly to be deemed a perjured knight." 310 

Thus Palamon : but Arcite with disdain 
In haughty language thus replied again : 
" Forsworn thyself : the traitor's odious name 
I first return, and then disprove thy claim. 
If love be passion, and that passion nurst 315 

With strong desires, I loved the lady first. 
Canst thou pretend desire, whom zeal inflamed 
To worship, and a power celestial named ? 
Thine was devotion to the blest above, 
I saw the woman, and desired her love ; ° 320 

First owned my passion, and to thee commend 
The important secret, as my chosen friend. 
Suppose (which yet I grant not) thy desire 
A moment elder than my rival fire ; 
Can chance of seeing first thy title prove ? 325 

And knowst thou not, no law is made for love ? 
Law is to things which to free choice relate; ° 
Love is not in our choice, but in our fate ; 
Laws are not positive ; love's power we see 
Is Nature's sanction, and her first decree. 33 o 

Each day we break the bond of human laws 
For love, and vindicate the common cause. 



BOOK I 15 

Laws for defence of civil rights are placed, 

Love throws the fences down, and makes a general 

waste. 
Maids, widows, wives without distinction fall ; 335 

The sweeping deluge, love, comes on and covers all. 
If then the laws of friendship I transgress, 
I keep the greater, while I break the less ; 
And both are mad alike, since neither can possess. 
Both hopeless to be ransomed, never more 340 

To see the sun, but as he passes o'er. 
Like iEsop's hounds contending for the bone, 
Each pleaded right, and would be lord alone ; 
The fruitless fight continued all the day, 
A cur came by and snatched the prize away. 345 

As courtiers therefore jus tie for a grant, 
And when they break their friendship, plead their 

want, 
So thou, if Fortune will thy suit advance, 
Love on, nor envy me my equal chance : 
For I must love, and am resolved to try 350 

My fate, or failing in the adventure die." 

Great was their strife, which hourly was renewed, 
Till each with mortal hate his rival viewed : 
Now friends no more, nor walking hand in hand ; ° 
But when they met, they made a surly stand, 355 



16 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

And glared like angry lions as they passed, 
And wished that every look might be their last. 

It chanced at length, Pirithous came to attend 
This worthy Thesens, his familiar friend : 
Their love in early infancy began, 360 

And rose as childhood ripened into man, 
Companions of the war ; and loved so well, 
That when one died, as ancient stories tell, 
His fellow to redeem him went to hell. 

But to pursue my tale : to welcome home 365 

His warlike brother is Pirithous come : 
Arcite of Thebes was known in arms long since, 
And honoured by this young Thessalian prince. 
Theseus, to gratify his friend and guest, 
Who made our Arcite's freedom his request, 370 

Restored to liberty the captive knight, 
But on these hard conditions I recite : 
That if hereafter Arcite should be found 
Within the compass of Athenian ground, 
By day or night, or on whate'er pretence, 375 

His head should pay the forfeit of the offence. 
To this Pirithous for his friend agreed, 
And on his promise was the prisoner freed. 

Unpleased and pensive hence he takes his way, 
At his own peril ; for his life must pay.° 380 



BOOK I 17 

Who now but Arcite mourns his bitter fate, 

Finds his dear purchase, and repents too late ? 

" What have I gained," he said, " in prison pent, 

If I but change my bonds for banishment ? 

And banished from her sight, I suffer more 385 

In freedom than I felt in bonds before ; 

Forced from her presence and condemned to live, 

Unwelcome freedom and unthanked reprieve : 

Heaven is not but where Emily abides, 

And where she's absent, all is hell besides. 390 

Next to my day of birth, was that accurst 

Which bound my friendship to Pirithous first : 

Had I not known that prince, I still had been 

In bondage, and had still Emilia seen : 

For though I never can her grace deserve, 395 

'Tis recompense enough to see and serve. 

Palamon, my kinsman and my friend, 
How much more happy fates thy love attend ! 
Thine is the adventure, thine the victory, 

Well has thy fortune turned the dice for thee : * 400 
Thou on that angel's face mayest feed thy eyes, 
In prison, no ; but blissful paradise ! 
Thou daily seest that sun of beauty shine, 
And lovest at least in love's extremest line. 

1 mourn in absence, love's eternal night ; 405 

c 



18 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

And who can tell bnt since thou hast her sight, 

And art a comely, young, and valiant knight, 

Fortune (a various power) may cease to frown, 

And by some ways unknown thy wishes crown ? 

But I, the most forlorn of human kind, 410 

Nor help can hope nor remedy can find ; 

But doomed to drag my loathsome life in care,° 

For my reward, must end it in despair. 

Fire, water, air, and earth, and force of fates 

That governs all, and Heaven that all creates, 415 

Nor art, nor° Nature's hand can ease my grief ; 

Nothing but death, the wretch's last relief : 

Then farewell youth, and all the joys that dwell 

With youth and life, and life itself, farewell ! 

" But why, alas ! do mortal men in vain° 420 

Of Fortune, Fate, or Providence complain ? 
God gives us .what he knows our wants require, 
And better things than those which we desire : 
Some pray for riches ; riches they obtain ; 
But, watched by robbers, for their wealth are slain ; 425 
Some pray from prison to be freed ; and come, 
When guilty of their vows,° to fall at home ; 
Murdered by those they trusted with their life, 
A favoured servant or a bosom wife. 
Such dear-bought blessings happen every day, 430 



BOOK I 19 

Because we know not for what things to pray. 

Like drunken sots about the streets we roam : 

Well knows the sot he has a certain home, 

Yet knows not how to find the uncertain place, 

And blunders on, and staggers every pace. 435 

Thus all seek happiness ; but few can find, 

For far the greater part of men are blind. 

This is my case, who thought our utmost good 

Was in one word of freedom understood: 

The fatal blessing came : from prison free, 440 

I starve abroad, and lose the sight of Emily." 

Thus Arcite : but if Arcite thus deplore 
His sufferings, Palamon yet suffers more. 
For when he knew his rival freed and gone, 
He swells with wrath ; he makes outrageous moan ;° 445 
He frets, he fumes, he stares, he stamps the ground ; 
The hollow tower with clamours rings around : ° 
With briny tears he bathed his fettered feet, 
And dropped all o'er with agony of sweat. 
" Alas ! " he cried, " I, wretch, in prison pine, 450 

Too happy rival, while the fruit is thine : 
Thou livest at large, thou drawest thy native air, 
Pleased with thy freedom, proud of my despair : 
Thou may est, since thou hast youth and courage joined, 
A sweet behaviour and a solid mind, 455 



20 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Assemble ours, and all the Theban race, 

To vindicate on Athens thy disgrace ; 

And after (by some treaty made) possess 

Fair Emily, the pledge of lasting peace. 

So thine shall be the beauteous prize, while I 460 

Must languish in despair, in prison die. 

Thus all the advantage of the strife is thine, 

Thy portion double joys, and double sorrows mine." 

The rage of jealousy then fired his soul,° 
And his face kindled like a burning coal : 465 

Now cold despair, succeeding in her stead, 
To livid paleness turns the glowing red. 
His blood, scarce liquid, creeps within his veins, 
Like water which the freezing wind constrains. 
Then thus he said : " Eternal Deities, 470 

Who rule the world with absolute decrees, 
And write whatever time shall bring to pass 
With pens of adamant on plates of brass ; 
What is° the race of human kind your care 
Beyond what all his fellow-creatures are ? 475 

He with the rest is liable to pain, 
And like the sheep, his brother-beast, is slain. 
Cold, hunger, prisons, ills without a cure, 
All these he must, and guiltless oft, endure ; 
Or does your justice, power, or prescience fail, 480 



BOOK I 21 

When the good suffer and the bad prevail ? 

What worse to wretched virtue could befal, 

If Fate or giddy Fortune governed all ? 

Nay, worse than other beasts is our estate : ° 

Them, to pursue their pleasures, you create ; ° 485 

We, bound by harder laws, must curb our will, 

And your commands, not our desires, fulfil : 

Then, when the creature is unjustly slain, 

Yet, after death at least, he feels no pain ; 

But man in life surcharged with woe before, 490 

Not freed when dead, is doomed to suffer more. 

A serpent shoots his sting at° unaware ; 

An ambushed thief forelays a traveller ; 

The man lies murdered, while the thief and snake, 

One gains the thickets, and one thrids the brake. 495 

This let divines decide; but well I know, 

Just or unjust, I have my share of woe : 

Through Saturn seated in a luckless place, 

And Juno's wrath that persecutes my race ; ° 

Or Mars and Venus in a quartiF move 500 

My pangs of jealousy for Arcite's love." 

Let Palamon oppressed in bondage mourn, 
While to his exiled rival we return. 
By this the sun, declining from his height, 
The day had shortened to prolong the night : 505 



22 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

The lengthened night gave length of misery, 

Both to the captive lover and the free : 

For Palainon in endless prison mourns, 

And Arcite forfeits life if he returns ; 

The banished never hopes his love to see, 510 

Nor hopes the captive lord his liberty. 

'Tis hard to say who suffers greater pains ; 

One sees his love, but cannot break his chains ; 

One free, and all his motions uncontrolled, 

Beholds whate'er he would but what he would behold. 

Judge as you please, for I will haste to tell 516 

What fortune to the banished knight befel. 

When Arcite was to Thebes returned again, 

The loss of her he loved renewed his pain ; 

What could be worse than never more to see 520 

His life, his soul, his charming Emily ? 

He raved with all the madness of despair, 

He roared, he beat his breast, he tore his hair. 

Dry sorrow in his stupid eyes appears, 

For wanting nourishment, he wanted tears ; 525 

His eyeballs in their hollow sockets sink, 

Bereft of sleep ; he loathes his meat and drink ; 

He withers at his heart, and looks as wan 

As the pale spectre of a murdered man : 

That pale turns yellow, and his face receives 530 



BOOK I 23 

The faded hue of sapless boxen leaves ; 

In solitary groves he makes his moan, 

Walks early out, and ever is alone ; 

Nor, mixed in mirth, in youthful pleasure shares, 

But sighs when songs and instruments he hears. 535 

His spirits are so low, his voice is drowned, 

He hears as from afar, or in a swound, 

Like the deaf murmurs of a distant sound : 

Uncombed his locks, and squalid his attire, 

Unlike the trim of love and gay desire ; 54 o 

But full of museful mopings, which presage 

The loss of reason and conclude in rage.° 

This when he had endured a year and more, 
Now wholly changed from what he was before, 
It happened once, that, slumbering as he lay, 545 

He dreamt (his dream began at break of day) 
That Hermes o'er his head in air appeared, 
And with soft words his drooping spirits cheered ; 
His hat adorned with wings disclosed the god, 
And in his hand he bore the sleep-compelling rod ; 550 
Such as he seemed, when, at his sire's command, 
On Argus' head he laid the snaky wand. 
" Arise," he said, " to conquering Athens go ; 
There Fate appoints an end of all thy woe." 
The fright awakened Arcite with a start, 555 



24 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Against his bosom bounced his heaving heart ; 

But soon he said, with scarce recovered breath, 

" And thither will I go to meet my death, 

Sure to be slain ; but death is my desire, 

Since in Emilia's sight I shall expire." 560 

By chance he spied a mirror while he spoke, 

And gazing there beheld his altered look ; 

Wondering, he saw his features and his hue 

So much were changed, that scarce himself he knew. 

A sudden thought then starting in his mind, 565 

" Since I in Arcite cannot Arcite find, 

The world may search in vain with all their eyes, 

But never penetrate through this disguise. 

Thanks to the change which grief and sickness give, 

In low estate I may securely live, 570 

And see, unknown, my mistress day by day." 

He said, and clothed himself in coarse array, 

A labouring hind in show ; then forth he went, 

And to the Athenian towers his journey bent : 

One squire attended in the same disguise, 575 

Made conscious of his master's enterprise. 

Arrived at Athens, soon he came to court, 

Unknown, unquestioned in that thick resort : ° 

Proffering for hire his service at the gate, 

To drudge, draw water, and to run or wait. 580 



BOOK I 25 

So fair befel him, that for little gain 
He served at first Emilia's chamberlain ; 
And, watchful all advantages to spy, 
Was still at hand, and in his master's eye ; 
And as his bones were big, and sinews strong, 585 

Refused no toil that could to slaves belong ; 
But from deep wells with engines water drew, 
And used his noble hands the wood to hew. 
He passed a year at least attending thus 
On Emily, and called Philostratus. 59 o 

But never was there man of his degree 
So much esteemed, so well beloved as he. 
So gentle of condition was he known, 
That through the court his courtesy was blown : 
All think him worthy of a greater place, 595 

And recommend him to the royal grace ; 
That exercised within a higher sphere, 
His virtues more conspicuous might appear. 
Thus by the general voice was Arcite praised, 
And by great Theseus to high favour raised ; 600 

Among his menial servants first enrolled, 
And largely entertained with sums of gold : 
Besides what secretly from Thebes was sent, 
Of his own income and his annual rent. 604 

This Avell employed, he purchased friends and fame, 



26 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

But cautiously concealed from whence it came. 

Thus for three years he lived with large increase 

In arms of honour, and esteem in peace ; 

To Theseus' person he was ever near, 

And Theseus for his virtues held him dear. 610 



Book II 

While Arcite lives in bliss, the story turns 
Where hopeless Palamon in prison mourns. 
For six long years immured, the captive knight 
Had dragged his chains, and scarcely seen the light : 
Lost liberty and love at once he bore ; 
His prison pained him much, his passion more : 
Nor dares he hope his fetters to remove, 
Nor ever wishes to be free from love. 

But when the sixth revolving year was run. 
And May within the Twins received the sun,° j 

Were it by Chance, or forceful Destiny, 
Which forms in causes first whate'er shall be,° 
Assisted by a friend one moonless night, 
This Palamon from prison took his flight : 
A pleasant beverage he prepared before i 

Of wine and honey mixed, with added store 
Of opium ; to his keeper this he brought, 



BOOK II 27 

Who swallowed unaware the sleepy draught, 

And snored secure till morn, his senses bound 

In slumber, and in long oblivion drowned. 20 

Short was the night, and careful Palamon 

Sought the next covert ere the rising sun. 

A thick-spread forest near the city lay, 

To this with lengthened strides he took his way, 

(For far he could not fly, and feared the day. ) 25 

Safe from pursuit, he meant to shun the light, 

Till the brown shadows of the friendly night 

To Thebes might favour his intended flight. 

When to his country come, his next design 

Was all the Theban race in arms to join, 30 

And war on Theseus, till he lost his life, 

Or won the beauteous Emily to wife. 

Thus while his thoughts the lingering day beguile, 

To gentle Arcite let us turn our style ; ° 

Who little dreamt how nigh he was to care, 35 

Till treacherous fortune caught him in the snare. 

The morning-lark, the messenger of day,° 

Saluted in her song the morning gray ; 

And soon the sun arose with beams so bright, 

That all the horizon laughed to see the joyous sight ; 40 

He with his tepid rays the rose renews, 

And licks the dropping leaves, and dries the dews ; 



28 PALAMON AND ARC IT E 

When Arcite left his bed, resolved to pay 

Observance to the month of merry May, 

Forth on his fiery steed betimes he rode, 45 

That scarcely prints the turf on which he trod : 

At ease he seemed, and prancing o'er the plains, 

Turned only to the grove his horse's reins, 

The grove I named before, and, lighting there, 

A woodbine garland sought to crown his hair ; 50 

Then turned his face against the rising day, 

And raised his voice to welcome in the May : 

"For thee, sweet month, the groves green liveries 
wear, 
If not the first, the fairest of the year : 
For thee the Graces lead the dancing hours, 55 

And Nature's ready pencil paints the flowers: 
When thy short reign is past, the feverish sun 
The sultry tropic fears, and moves more slowly on. 
So may thy tender blossoms fear no blight, 
Nor goats with venomed teeth thy tendrils bite, 60 
As thou shalt guide my wandering feet to find 
The fragrant greens I seek, my brows to bind." 

His vows addressed, within the grove he strayed, 
Till Fate or Fortune near the place conveyed 
His steps where secret Palamon was laid. 65 

Full little thought of him the gentle knight, 



BOOK II 29 

Who flying death had there concealed his flight, 

In brakes and brambles hid, and shunning mortal 

sight ; 
And less he knew him for his hated foe, 
But feared him as a man he did not know. 70 

But as it has been said of ancient years, 
That fields are full of eyes and woods have ears, 
For this the wise are ever on their guard, 
For unforeseen, they say, is unprepared. 
Uncautious Arcite thought himself alone, 75 

And less than all suspected Palamon, 
Who, listening, heard him, while he searched the grove, 
And loudly sung his roundelay of love : 
But on the sudden stopped, and silent stood, 
(As lovers often muse, and change their mood;) 80 
Now high as heaven, and then as low as hell, 
Now up, now down, as buckets in a well : 
For Venus, like her day, will change her cheer, 
And seldom shall we see a Friday clear. 
Thus Arcite, having sung, with altered hue 85 

Sunk on the ground, and from his bosom drew 
A desperate sigh, accusing Heaven and Fate, 
And angry Juno's unrelenting hate : 
" Cursed be the day when first I did appear ; 
Let it be blotted from the calendar, 9 o 



30 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Lest it pollute the month, and poison all the year. 

Still will the jealous Queen pursue our race ? 

Cadmus is dead, the Theban city was : ° 

Yet ceases not her hate ; for all who come 

From Cadmus are involved in Cadmus' doom. 95 

I suffer for my blood : unjust decree, 

That punishes another's crime on me. 

In mean estate I serve my mortal foe, 

The man who caused my country's overthrow. 

This is not all ; for Juno, to my shame, 100 

Has forced me to forsake my former name ; 

Arcite I was, Philostratus I am. 

That side of heaven is all my enemy : 

Mars ruined Thebes ; his mother ruined me. 

Of all the royal race remains but one 105 

Besides myself, the unhappy Palamon, 

Whom Theseus holds in bonds and will not free ; 

Without a crime, except his kin to me. 

Yet these and all the rest I could endure ; 

But love's a malady without a cure : no 

Fierce Love has pierced me with his fiery dart, 

He fries within, and hisses at my heart. 

Your eyes, fair Emily, my fate pursue ; ° 

I suffer for the rest, I die for you. 

Of such a goddess no time leaves record, 115 



BOOK II 31 

Who burned the temple where she was adored : 

And let it burn, I never will complain, 

Pleased with my sufferings, if you knew my pain." 

At this a sickly qualm his heart assailed, 
His ears ring inward, and his senses failed. 120 

No word missed Palamon of all he spoke ; 
But soon to deadly pale he changed his look : 
He trembled every limb, and felt a smart, 
As if cold steel had glided through his heart ; 
Nor longer stayed, but starting from his place, 125 

Discovered stood, and showed his hostile face : 

" False traitor, Arcite, traitor to thy blood, 
Bound by thy sacred oath to seek my good, 
Now art thou found forsworn for Emily, 
And darest attempt her love, for whom I die. 130 

So hast thou cheated Theseus with a wile, 
Against thy vow, returning to beguile 
Under a borrowed name : as false to me, 
So false thou art to him who set thee free. 
But rest assured, that either thou shalt die, 135 

Or else renounce thy claim in Emily ; 
For though unarmed I am, and, freed by chance, 
Am here without my sword or pointed lance, 
Hope not, base man, unquestioned hence to go, 
For I am Palamon, thy mortal foe." 140 



32 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Arcite, who heard his tale and knew the man, 
His sword unsheathed, and fiercely thus began : 
" Now, by the gods who govern heaven above, 
Wert thou not weak with hunger, mad with love, 
That word had been thy last ; or in this grove 145 

This hand should force thee to renounce thy love ; 
The surety which I gave thee I defy : ° 
Fool, not to know that love endures no tie, 
And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury. 
Know, I will serve the fair in thy despite ; 150 

But since thou art my kinsman and a knight, 
Here, have my faith, to-morrow in this grove 
Our arms shall plead the titles of our love : 
And Heaven so help my right, as I alone 
Will come, and keep the cause and quarrel both un- 
known, 155 
With arms of proof both for myself and thee ; 
Choose thou the best, and leave the worst to me. 
And, that at better ease thou mayest abide, 
Bedding and clothes I will this night provide, 
And needful sustenance, that thou mayest be° 160 
A conquest better won, and worthy me." 
His promise Palamon accepts ; but prayed, 
To keep it better than the first he made. 
Thus fair they parted till the morrow's dawn ; 



BOOK II 33 

For each had laid his plighted faith to pawn. 165 

Oh Love ! thou sternly dost thy power maintain, 

And wilt not bear a rival in thy reign ! 

Tyrants and thou all fellowship disdain. 

This was in Arcite proved and Palamon : 

Both in despair, yet each would love alone. 170 

Arcite returned, and, as in honour tied, 

His foe with bedding and with food supplied ; 

Then, ere the day, two suits of armour sought, 

Which borne before him on his steed he brought : 

Both were of shining steel, and wrought so pure 175 

As might the strokes of two such arms endure. 

Now, at the time, and in the appointed place, 

The challenger and challenged, face to face, 

Approach ; each other from afar they knew, 

And from afar their hatred changed their hue. 180 

So stands the Thracian herdsman with his spear, 

Full in the gap, and hopes the hunted bear, 

And hears him rustling in the wood, and sees 

His course at distance by the bending trees : 

And thinks, Here comes my mortal enemy, 185 

And either he must fall in fight, or I : 

This while he thinks, he lifts aloft his dart ; 

A generous dullness seizes every part, 

The veins pour back the blood, and fortify the heart. 



34 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Thus pale they meet ; their eyes with fury burn ; 190 
Xone greets, for none the greeting will return ; 
But in dumb surliness each armed with care 
His foe professed, as brother of the war ; 
Then both, no moment lost, at once advance 
Against each other, armed with sword and lance : 195 
They lash, they foin,° they pass, they strive to bore 
Their corslets, and the thinnest parts explore. 
Thus two long hours in equal arms they stood, 
And wounded wound, till both were bathed in blood 
And not a foot of ground had either got, 200 

As if the world depended on the spot. 
Fell Arcite like an angry tiger fared, 
And like a lion Palamon appeared : 
Or, as two boars whom love to battle draws, 
With rising bristles and with frothy jaws, 205 

Their adverse breasts with tusks oblique they wound ;. 
With grunts and groans the forest rings around. 
So fought the knights, and fighting must abide, 
Till Fate an umpire sends their difference to decide. 
The power that ministers to God's decrees, 210 

And executes on earth what Heaven foresees, 
Called Providence, or Chance, or Fatal sway, 
Comes with resistless force, and finds or makes her 
way. 



BOOK II 35 

Nor kings, nor nations, nor nnited power 
One moment can retard the appointed hour; 215 

And some one day, some wondrous chance appears, 
Which happened not in centuries of years : 
For sure, whate'er we mortals hate or love 
Or hope or fear depends on powers above : 
They move our appetites to good or ill, 220 

And by foresight necessitate the will. 
In Theseus this appears, whose youthful joy 
Was beasts of chase in forests to destroy ; 
This gentle knight, inspired by jolly May, 
Forsook his easy couch at early day, 225 

And to the wood and wilds pursued his way. 
Beside him rode Hippolyta the queen. 
And Emily attired in lively green, 
With horns and hounds and all the tuneful cry, 
To hunt a royal hart within the covert nigh : 230 

And, as he followed Mars before, so now 
He serves the goddess of the silver bow.° 
The way that Theseus took was to the wood, 
Where the two knights in cruel battle stood : 
The laund° on which they fought, the appointed 
place 235 

In which the uncoupled hounds began the chase. 
Thither forth-right he rode to rouse the prey, 



36 PAL AMOK AND ARCITE 

That shaded by the fern in harbour lay ; 

And thence dislodged, was wont to leave the wood 

For open fields, and cross the crystal flood. 240 

Approached, and looking underneath the sun,° 

He saw proud Arcite and fierce Palamon, 

In mortal battle doubling blow on blow ; 

Like lightning flamed their fauchions to and fro, 

And shot a dreadful gleam ; so strong they strook, 245 

There seemed less force required to fell an oak. 

He gazed with wonder on their equal might, 

Looked eager on, but knew not either knight. 

Resolved to learn, he spurred his fiery steed 

With goring rowels to provoke his speed. 250 

The minute ended that began the race, 

So soon he was betwixt them on the place ; 

And with his sword unsheathed, on pain of life 

Commands both combatants to cease their strife ; 

Then with imperious tone pursues his threat : 255 

" What are you ? why in arms together met ? 

How dares your pride presume against my laws, 

As in a listed field to fight your cause, 

Unasked the royal grant ; no marshal by, 

As knightly rights require, nor judge to try ? " 260 

Then Palamon, with scarce recovered breath, 

Thus hasty spoke : " We both deserve the death, 



BOOK II 37 

And both would die ; for look the world around, 

A pair so wretched is not to be found. 

Our life's a load ; encumbered with the charge, 265 

We long to set the imprisoned soul at large. 

Now, as thou art a sovereign judge, decree 

The rightful doom of death to him and me ; 

Let neither find thy grace, for grace is cruelty. 

Me first, kill me first, and cure my woe ; 270 

Then sheath the sword of justice on my foe ; 

Or kill him first, for when his name is heard, 

He foremost will receive his due reward. 

Arcite of Thebes is he, thy mortal foe, 

On whom thy grace did liberty bestow; 275 

But first contracted, that, if ever found 

By day or night upon the Athenian ground, 

His head should pay the forfeit ; see returned 

The perjured knight, his oath and honour scorned : 

For this is he, who, with a borrowed name 2S0 

And proffered service, to thy palace came, 

Now called Philostratus ; retained by thee, 

A traitor trusted, and in high degree, 

Aspiring to the bed of beauteous Emily. 

My part remains, from Thebes my birth I own, 285 

And call myself the unhappy Palamon. 

Think me not like that man ; since no disgrace 



38 PALAMON AND AECITE 

Can force me to renounce the honour of my race. 

Know me for what I am : I broke thy chain, 

Nor promised I thy prisoner to remain : 290 

The love of liberty with life is given, 

And life it self the inferior gift of Heaven. 

Thus without crime I fled ; but farther know, 

I, with this Arcite, am thy mortal foe : 

Then give me death, since I thy life pursue ; 295 

For safeguard of thyself, death is my due. 

More wouldst thou know ? I love bright Emily, 

And for her sake and in her sight will die : 

But kill my rival too, for he no less 

Deserves ; and I thy righteous doom will bless, 300 

Assured that what I lose he never shall possess." 

To this replied the stern Athenian Prince, 

And sourly smiled : " In owning your offence 

You judge your self, and I but keep record 

In place of law, while you pronounce the word. 305 

Take your desert, the death you have decreed ; 

I seal your doom, and ratify the deed : 

By Mars, the patron of my arms, you die." 

He said ; dumb sorrow seized the standers-by.° 
The Queen, above the rest, by nature good, 310 

(The pattern formed of perfect womanhood) 
For tender pity wept : when she began, 



BOOK II 39 

Through the bright quire the infectious virtue ran. 

All dropt their tears, even the contended maid ; 

And thus among themselves they softly said: 315 

" What eyes can suffer this unworthy sight ! 

Two youths of royal blood, renowned in fight, 

The mastership of Heaven in face and mind, 

And lovers, far beyond their faithless kind : 319 

See their wide streaming wounds ; they neither came 

From pride of empire nor desire of fame : 

Kings fight for kingdoms, madmen for applause ; 

But love for love alone, that crowns the lover's cause." 

This thought, which ever bribes the beauteous kind, 

Such pity wrought in every lady's mind, 325 

They left their steeds, and prostrate on the place, 

From the fierce King implored the offenders' grace. 

He paused a while, stood silent in his mood ; 
(For yet his rage was boiling in his blood :) 
But soon his tender mind the impression felt. 330 

(As softest metals are not slow to melt ; 
And pity soonest runs in gentle minds :) 
Then reasons with himself ; and first he finds 
His passion cast a mist before his sense, 
And either made or magnified the offence. 335 

Offence? Of what? To whom? Who judged the 
cause ? 



40 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

The prisoner freed himself by Nature's laws; 
Born free, he sought his right ; the man he freed 
Was perjured, but his love excused the deed : 
Thus pondering, he looked under with his eyes, 340 
And saw the women's tears, and heard their cries, 
Which moved compassion more ; he shook his head, 
And softly sighing to himself he said: 

" Curse on the unpardoning prince, whom tears can 
draw 
To no remorse, who rules by lion's law ; 345 

And deaf to prayers, by no submission bowed, 
Rends all alike, the penitent and proud ! " 
At this with look serene he raised his head ; 
Eeason resumed her place, and passion fled : 
Then thus aloud he spoke : — " The power of Love,° 350 
In earth, and seas, and air, and heaven above, 
Rules, unresisted, with an awful nod, 
By daily miracles declared a god ; 
He blinds the wise, gives eye-sight to the blind ; 
And moulds and stamps anew the lover's mind. 355 
Behold that Arcite, and this Palamon, 
Freed from my fetters, and in safety gone, 
What hindered either in their native soil 
At ease to reap the harvest of their toil ? 
But Love, their lord, did otherwise ordain, 360 



BOOK II 41 

And brought them, in their own despite again, 
To suffer death deserved ; for well they know 
'Tis in my power, and I their deadly foe. 
The proverb holds, that to be wise and love, 
Is hardly granted to the gods above. 365 

See how the madmen bleed ! behold the gains 
With which their master, Love, rewards their pains ! 
For seven long years, on duty every day, 
Lo ! their obedience, and their monarch's pay ! 
Yet, as in duty bound, they serve him on ; 370 

And ask the fools, they think it wisely done ; 
Nov ease nor wealth nor life it self regard, 
For 'tis their maxim, love is love's reward. 
This is not all ; the fair, for whom they strove, 
Nor knew before, nor could suspect their love, 375 

Nor thought, when she beheld the fight from far, 
Her beauty was the occasion of the war. 
But sure a general doom on man is past, 
And all are fools and lovers, first or last : 
This both by others and my self I know, 380 

For I have served their sovereign long ago ; 
Oft have been caught within the winding train 
Of female snares, and felt the lover's pain, 
And learned how far the god can human hearts 
constrain. 



42 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

To this remembrance, and the prayers of those 385 

Who for the offending warriors interpose, 

I give their forfeit lives, on this accord, 

To do me homage as their sovereign lord ; 

And as my vassals, to their utmost might, 

Assist my person and assert my right/' 390 

This freely sworn, the knights their grace obtained ; 

Then thus the King his secret thought explained : 

" If wealth or honour or a royal race, 

Or each or all, may win a lady's grace, 

Then either of you knights may well deserve 395 

A princess born ; and such is she you serve : 

For Emily is sister to the crown, 

And but too well to both her beauty known : 

But should you combat till you both were dead, 

Two lovers cannot share a single bed. 400 

As, therefore, both are equal in degree, 

The lot of both be left to destiny. 

Now hear the award, and happy may it prove 

To her, and him who best deserves her love. 

Depart from hence in peace, and free as air, 405 

Search the wide world, and where you please repair ; 

But on the day when this returning sun 

To the same point through every sign has run, 

Then each of you his hundred knights shall bring 



BOOK II 43 

In royal lists, to fight before the king; 410 

And then the knight, whom Fate or happy Chance 

Shall with his friends to victory advance, 

And grace his arms so far in equal fight, 

From out the bars to force his opposite, 

Or kill, or make him recreant on the plain, 415 

The prize of valour and of love shall gain ; 

The vanquished party shall their claim release, 

And the long jars conclude in lasting peace. 

The charge be mine to adorn the chosen ground, 

The theatre of war, for champions so renowned ; 420 

And take the patron's place of either knight, 

With eyes impartial to behold the fight ; 

And Heaven of me so judge as I shall judge aright. 

If both are satisfied with this accord, 

Swear by the laws of knighthood on my sword." 425 

Who now but Palamon exults with joy ? 
And ravished Arcite seems to touch the sky. 
The whole assembled troop was pleased as well, 
Extolled the award, and on their knees they fell 429 
To bless the gracious King. The knights, with leave 
Departing from the place, his last commands receive ; 
On Emily with equal ardour look, 
And from her eyes their inspiration took : 
From thence to Thebes' old walls pursue their way, 



44 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Each to provide his champions for the day. 435 

It might be deemed, on our historian's part, 

Or too much negligence or want of art, 

If he forgot the vast magnificence 

Of royal Theseus, and his large expense. 

He first enclosed for lists a level ground, 440 

The whole circumference a mile around ; 

The form was circular ; and all without 

A trench was sunk, to moat the place about. 

Within, an amphitheatre appeared, 

Raised in degrees, to sixty paces reared : 445 

That when a man was placed in one degree, 

Height was allowed for him above to see. 
Eastward was built a gate of marble white ; ° 

The like adorned the western opposite. 

A nobler object than this fabric was 450 

Borne never saw, nor of so vast a space : 

For, rich with spoils of many a conquered land, 

All arts and artists Theseus could command, 

Who sold for hire, or wrought for better fame ; 

The master-painters and the carvers came. 455 

So rose within the compass of the year 

An age's work, a glorious theatre. 

Then o'er its eastern gate was raised above 

A temple, sacred to the Queen of Love ; 



BOOK II 45 

An altar stood below ; on either hand 4 6o 

A priest with roses crowned, who held a myrtle wand. 

The dome of Mars was on the gate opposed, 
And on the north a turret was enclosed 
Within the wall of alabaster white 
And crimson coral, for the Queen of Night, 465 

Who takes in sylvan sports her chaste delight. 

Within these oratories might you see 
Rich carvings, portraitures, and imagery ; 
Where every figure to the life expressed 
The godhead's power to whom it was addressed. 470 
In Venus' temple on the sides were seen 
The broken slumbers of enamoured men ; 
Prayers that even spoke, and pity seemed to call, 
And issuing sighs that smoked along the wall ; ° 
Complaints and hot desires, the lover's hell, 475 

And scalding tears that wore a channel where they 

fell; 
And all around were nuptial bonds, the ties 
Of love's assurance, and a train of lies, 
That, made in lust, conclude in perjuries; 
Beauty, and Youth, and Wealth, and Luxury, 480 

And sprightly Hope, and short-enduring Joy, 
And Sorceries, to raise the infernal powers, 
And Sigils framed in planetary hours ; 



46 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Expense, and After-thought, and idle Care, 

And Doubts of motley hue, and dark Despair ; 485 

Suspicions and fantastical Surmise, 

And Jealousy suffused, with jaundice in her eyes, 

Discolouring all she viewed, in tawny dressed, 

Down-looked, and with a cuckow on her fist. 

Opposed to her, on the other side advance 490 

The costly feast, the carol, and the dance, 

Minstrels and music, poetry and play, 

And balls by night, and turnaments by day. 

All these were painted on the wall, and more ; 

With acts and monuments of times before ; 495 

And others added by prophetic doom, 

And lovers yet unborn, and loves to come : 

For there the Idalian mount, and Citheron, 

The court of Venus, was in colours drawn ; 

Before the palace gate, in careless dress 500 

And loose array, sat portress Idleness ; 

There by the fount Narcissus pined alone ; 

There Samson was ; with wiser Solomon, 

And all the mighty names by love undone. 

Medea's charms were there ; Circean feasts, 505 

With bowls that turned enamoured youths to beasts. 

Here might be seen, that beauty, wealth, and wit, 

And prowess to the power of love submit ; 



BOOK II 47 

The spreading snare for all mankind is laid, 

And lovers all betray, and are betrayed. 510 

The Goddess self some noble hand had wrought ; 

Smiling she seemed, and full of pleasing thought ; 

From ocean as she first began to rise, 

And smoothed the ruffled seas, and cleared the skies, 

She trod the brine, all bare below the breast, 515 

And the green waves but ill concealed the rest : 

A lute she held ; and on her head was seen 

A wreath of roses red and myrtles green ; 

Her turtles fanned the buxom air above ; 

And by his -mother stood an infant Love,° 520 

With wings unfledged ; his eyes were banded o'er, 

His hands a bow, his back a quiver bore, 

Supplied with arrows bright and keen, a deadly store. 

But in the dome of mighty Mars the red 
With different figures all the sides were spread ; 525 
This temple, less in form, with equal grace, 
Was imitative of the first in Thrace ; ° 
For that cold region was the loved abode 
And sovereign mansion of the warrior god. 
The landscape was a forest wide and bare, 530 

Where neither beast nor human kind repair, 
The fowl that scent afar the borders fly, 
And shun the bitter blast, and wheel about the sky. 



48 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

A cake of scurf lies baking on the ground, 
And prickly stubs, instead of trees, are found ; 535 

Or woods with knots and knares deformed and old, 
Headless the most, and hideous to behold ; 
A rattling tempest through the branches went, 
That stripped them bare, and one sole way they bent- 
Heaven froze above severe, the clouds congeal, 540 
And through the crystal vault appeared the standing 

hail. 
Such was the face without : a mountain stood 
Threatening from high, and overlooked the wood : 
Beneath the lowering brow, and on a bent/ 
The temple stood of Mars armipotent ; ° 545 

The frame of burnished steel, that cast a glare 
From afar, and seemed to thaw the freezing air. 
A straight long entry to the temple led, 
Blind with high walls, and horror over head ; 
Thence issued such a blast, and hollow roar, 550 

As threatened from the hinge to heave the door ; 
In through that door a northern light there shone ; ° 
'Twas all it had, for windows there were none. 
The gate was adamant ; eternal frame, 
Which, hewed by Mars himself, from Indian quarries 

came, 555 

The labour of a God ; and all along 



BOOK II 49 

Tough iron plates were clenched to make it strong. 
A tun ubout was every pillar there ; 
A polished mirror shone not half so clear. 
There saw I how the secret felon wrought, 560 

And treason labouring in the traitor's thought, 
And midwife Time the ripened plot to murder brought. 
There the red Anger dared the pallid Fear ; 
Next stood Hypocrisy, with holy leer, 
Soft, smiling, and demurely looking down, 565 

But hid the dagger underneath the gown ; 
The assassinating wife, the household fiend ; 
And far the blackest there, the traitor-friend. 
On the other side there stood Destruction bare, 
Unpunished Rapine, and a waste of war ; 570 

Contest with sharpened knives in cloisters drawn, 
And all with blood bespread the holy lawn. 
Loud menaces were heard, and foul disgrace, 
And bawling infamy, in language base ; 
Till sense was lost in sound, and silence fled the 
place. 575 

The slayer of himself yet saw I there, 
The gore congealed was clottered in his hair ; 
With eyes half closed and gaping mouth he lay, 
And grim as when he breathed his sullen soul away. 
In midst of all the dome, Misfortune sate, 580 



50 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

And gloomy Discontent, and fell Debate, 

And Madness laughing in his ireful mood ; 

And armed Complaint on theft ; and cries of blood. 

There was the murdered corps, in covert laid, 

And violent death in thousand shapes displayed : 585 

The city to the soldier's rage resigned ; 

Successless wars, and poverty behind : 

Ships burnt in fight, or forced on rocky shores, 

And the rash hunter strangled by the boars : ° 

The new-born babe by nurses overlaid ; ° 590 

And the cook caught within the raging fire he made. 

All ills of Mars his nature, flame and steel ; 

The gasping charioteer beneath the wheel 

Of his own car ; the ruined house that falls 

And intercepts her lord betwixt the walls : 595 

The whole division that to Mars pertains, 

All trades of death that deal in steel for gains 

Were there : the butcher, armourer, and smith, 

AVho forges sharpened f auchions, or the scythe. 

The scarlet conquest on a tower was placed, 600 

With shouts and soldiers' acclamations graced : 

A pointed sword hung threatening o'er his head, 

Sustained but by a slender twine of thread. 

There saw I Mars his ides, the Capitol, 

The seer in vain foretelling Caesar's fall ; 605 



BOOK II 51 

The last Triumvirs, and the wars they move, 

And Antony, who lost the world for love. 

These, and a thousand more, the fane° adorn ; 

Their fates were painted ere the men were born, 

All copied from the heavens, and ruling force 610 

Of the red star, in his revolving course. 

The form of Mars high on a chariot stood, 

All sheathed in arms, and gruffly looked the god ; 

Two geomantic figures were displayed 

Above his head, a warrior and a maid, 615 

One when direct, and one when retrograde. 

Tired with deformities of death, I haste 
To the third temple of Diana chaste. 
A sylvan scene with various greens was drawn, 
Shades on the sides, and on the midst a lawn ; 620 

The silver Cynthia, with her nymphs around, 
Pursued the flying deer, the woods with horns resound : 
Calisto there stood manifest of shame, 
And, turned a bear, the northern star became : 
Her son was next, and, by peculiar grace, 625 

In the cold circle held the second place ; 
The stag Actseon in the stream had spied 
The naked huntress, and for seeing died ; 
His hounds, unknowing of his change, pursue 
The chase, and their mistaken master slew. 630 



52 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Peneian Daphne too was there to see, 
Apollo's love before, and now his tree. 
The adjoining fane the assembled Greeks expressed, 
And hunting of the Calydonian beast. 
(Enides' valour, and his envied prize ; 635 

The fatal power of Atalanta's eyes ; 
Diana's vengeance on the victor shown, 
The murderess mother, and consuming son ; 
The Volscian queen extended on the plain, 
The treason punished, and the traitor slain. 640 

The rest were various huntings, well designed, 
And savage beasts destroyed, of every kind. 
The graceful goddess was arrayed in green ; ° 
About her feet were little beagles seen, 
That watched with upward eyes the motions of their 
Queen. 645 

Her legs were buskined, and the left before, 
In act to shoot ; a silver bow she bore, 
And at her back a painted quiver wore. 
She trod a wexing moon, that soon would wane, 
And, drinking borrowed light, be filled again ; 650 

With downcast eyes, as seeming to survey 
The dark dominions, her alternate sway. 
Before her stood a woman in her throes, 
And called Lucina's aid, her burden to disclose. 



BOOK III 53 

All these the painter drew with such command, 655 
That Nature snatched the pencil from his hand, 
Ashamed and angry that his art could feign, 
And mend the tortures of a mother's pain. 
Theseus beheld the fanes of every god, 
And thought his mighty cost was well bestowed. 660 
So princes now their poets should regard ; ° 
But few can write, and fewer can reward. 

The theatre thus raised, the lists enclosed, 
And all with vast magnificence disposed, 
We leave the monarch pleased, and haste to bring 665 
The knights to combat, and their arms to sing. 



Book III 

The day approached when Fortune should decide 
The important enterprise, and give the bride ; 
For now the rivals round the world had sought, 
And each his number, well appointed, brought. 
The nations far and near contend in choice, 
And send the flower of war by public voice ; 
That after or before were never known 
Such chiefs, as each an army seemed alone : 
Beside the champions, all of high degree, 
Who knighthood loved, and deeds of chivalry, 



54 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Thronged to the lists, and envied to behold 

The names of others, not their own, enrolled. 

Nor seems it strange ; for every noble knight 

Who loves the fair, and is endued with might, 

In such a quarrel would be proud to fight. 15 

There breathes not scarce a man on British ground 

(An isle for love and arms of old renowned) 

But would have sold his life to purchase fame, 

To Palamon or Arcite sent his name ; 

And had the land selected of the best, 20 

Half had come hence, and let the world provide the 

rest. 
A hundred knights with Palamon there came, 
Approved in fight, and men of mighty name ; 
Their arms were several, as their nations were, 
But furnished all alike with sword and spear. 25 

Some wore coat armour, imitating scale, 
And next their skins were stubborn shirts of mail ; 
Some wore a breastplate and a light juppon, 
Their horses clothed with rich caparison ; 
Some for defence would leathern bucklers use 30 

Of folded hides, and others shields of Pruce. 
One hung a pole-axe at his saddle-bow, 
And one a heavy mace to stun the foe ; 
One for his legs and knees provided well, 



BOOK III 55 

With jambeux armed, and double plates of steel ; 35 
This on his helmet wore a lady's glove, 
And that a sleeve embroidered by his love. 

With Palamon above the rest in place, 
Lycurgus came, the surly king of Thrace ; 
Black was his beard, and manly was his face ; 40 

The balls of his broad eyes rolled in his head, 
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red ; 
He looked a lion° with a gloomy stare, 
And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair ; 
Big-boned and large of limbs, with sinews strong, 45 
Broad-shouldered, and his arms were round and long. 
Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian use of old) 
Were yoked to draw his car of burnished gold. 
Upright he stood, and bore aloft his shield, 
Conspicuous from afar, and overlooked the field. 50 
His surcoat was a bear-skin on his back ; 
His hair hung long behind, and glossy raven-black. 
His ample forehead bore a coronet, 
With sparkling diamonds and with rubies set. 
Ten brace, and more, of greyhounds, snowy fair, 55 
And tall as stags, ran loose, and coursed around his 

chair, 
A match for pards° in flight, in grappling for the bear ; 
With golden muzzles all their mouths were bound, 



56 PALAMOX AND ARCITE 

And collars of the same their necks surround. 

Thus through the fields Lycurgus took his way ; 60 

His hundred knights attend in pomp and proud array. 

To match this monarch, with strong Arcite came 
Emetrius, king of Inde, a mighty name, 
On a bay courser, goodly to behold, 
The trappings of his horse embossed with barbarous 
gold. 65 

Not Mars bestrode a steed with greater grace ; 
His surcoat o'er his arms was cloth of Thrace, 
Adorned with pearls, all orient, round, and great ; 
His saddle was of gold, with emeralds set ; 
His shoulders large a mantle did attire, 70 

With rubies thick, and sparkling as the fire ; 
His amber-coloured locks in ringlets run, 
With graceful negligence, and shone against the sun. 
His nose was aquiline, his eyes were blue, 
Ruddy his lips, and fresh and fair his hue ; 75 

Some sprinkled freckles on his face were seen, 
Whose dusk set off the whiteness of the skin. 
His awful presence did the crowd surprise, 
Nor durst the rash spectator meet his eyes ; ° 
Eyes that confessed him born for kingly sway, So 

So fierce, they flashed intolerable day. 
His age in nature's youthful prime appeared, 



BOOK III 57 

And just began to bloom his yellow beard. 
Whene'er he spoke, his voice was heard around, 
Loud as a trumpet, with a silver sound; 85 

A laurel wreathed his temples, fresh, and green, 
And myrtle sprigs, the marks of love, were mixed 

between. 
Upon his fist he bore, for his delight, 
An eagle well reclaimed, and lily white. 

His hundred knights attend him to the war, 90 

All armed for battle ; save their heads were bare. 
Words and devices blazed on every shield, 
And pleasing was the terror of the field. 
For kings, and dukes, and barons you might see, 
Like sparkling stars, though different in degree, 95 
All for the increase of arms, and love of chivalry. 
Before the king tame leopards led the way, 
And troops of lions innocently play. 
So Bacchus through the conquered Indies rode, 
And beasts in gambols frisked before their honest god. 
In this array the war° of either side 101 

Through Athens passed with military pride. 
At prime, they entered on the Sunday morn ; 
Rich tapestry spread the streets, and flowers the posts 

adorn. 
The town was all a jubilee of feasts ; 105 



58 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

So Theseus willed in honour of his guests ; 

Him self with open arms the kings embraced, 

Then all the rest in their degrees were graced. 

No harbinger was needful for the night, 

For every house was proud to lodge a knight. no 

I pass the royal treat, nor must relate 
The gifts bestowed, nor how the champions sate ; 
Who first, who last, or how the knights addressed 
Their vows, or who was fairest at the feast ; 
Whose voice, whose graceful dance did most surprise, 
Soft amorous sighs, and silent love of eyes. u6 

The rivals call my Muse another way, 
To sing their vigils for the ensuing day. 
'Twas ebbing darkness, past the noon of night : ° 
And Phosphor, on the confines of the light, 120 

Promised the sun ; ere day began to spring, 
The tuneful lark already stretched her wing, 
And flickering on her nest, made short essays to sing. 

When wakeful Palamon, preventing day, 
Took to the royal lists his early way, 125 

To Venns at her fane, in her own house, to pray. 
There, falling on his knees before her shrine, 
He thus implored with prayers her power divine : 
" Creator Venus, genial power of love, 
The bliss of men below, and gods above ! ° 130 



BOOK III 59 

Beneath the sliding sun thou rnnst thy race, 

Dost fairest shine, and best become thy place. 

For thee the winds their eastern blasts forbear, 

Thy month reveals the spring, and opens all the year. 

Thee, Goddess, thee the storms of winter fly ; 135 

Earth smiles with flowers renewing, laughs the sky, 

And birds to lays of love their tuneful notes apply. 

For thee the lion loathes the taste of blood, 

And roaring hunts his female through the wood ; 

For thee the bulls rebellow through the groves, 140 

And tempt the stream, and snuff their absent loves. 

'Tis thine, whate'er is pleasant, good, or fair ; 

All nature is thy province, life thy care ; 

Thou madest the world, and dost the world repair. 

Thou gladder of the mount of Cytheron, 145 

Increase of Jove, companion of the Sun, 

If e'er Adonis touched thy tender heart, 

Have pity, Goddess, for thou knowest the smart ! 

Alas ! I have not words to tell my grief ; 

To vent my sorrow would be some relief; 150 

Light sufferings give us leisure to complain ; 

We groan, but cannot speak, in greater pain. 

Goddess, tell thy self what I would say ! 

Thou knowest it, and I feel too much to pray. 

So grant my suit, as I enforce my might, 155 



60 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

In love to be thy champion and thy knight, 

A servant to thy sex, a slave to thee, 

A foe professed to barren chastity : 

Nor ask I fame or honour of the field, 

Nor choose I more to vanquish than to yield : 160 

In my divine Emilia make me blest, 

Let Fate or partial Chance dispose the rest : 

Find thou the manner, and the means prepare ; 

Possession, more than conquest, is my care. 

Mars is the warrior's god ; in him it lies 165 

On whom he favours to confer the prize ; 

With smiling aspect you serenely move 

In your fifth orb, and rule the realm of love. 

The Fates but only spin the coarser clue, 

The finest of the wool is left for yon : 170 

Spare me but one small portion of the twine, 

And let the Sisters cut below your line : 

The rest among the rubbish may they sweep, 

Or add it to the yarn of some old miser's heap. 

But if you this ambitious prayer deny, 175 

(A wish, I grant, beyond mortality,) 

Then let me sink beneath proud Arcite's arms, 

And, I once dead, let him possess her charms." 

Thus ended he ; then, with observance due, 
The sacred incense on her altar threw : 180 



BOOK III 61 

The curling smoke mounts heavy from the fires ; 
At length it catches flame, and in a blaze expires ; 
At once the gracious Goddess gave the sign, 
Her statue shook, and trembled all the shrine : 
Pleased Palamon the tardy omen took ; 1S5 

For since the flames pursued the trailing smoke, 
He knew his boon was granted, but the day° 
To distance driven, and joy adjourned with long delay. 

Now morn with rosy light had streaked the sky,° 
Up rose the sun, and up rose Emily ; ° 190 

Addressed her early steps to Cynthia's fane, 
In state attended by her maiden train, 
Who bore the vests that holy rites require, 
Incense, and odorous gums, and covered fire. 
The plenteous horns with pleasant mead they crown, 
Nor wanted aught besides in honour of the Moon. 196 
Now, while the temple smoked with hallowed steam, 
They wash the virgin in a living stream ; 
The secret ceremonies I conceal, 

Uncouth, perhaps unlawful to reveal : 200 

But such they were as pagan use required, 
Performed by women when the men retired, 
Whose eyes profane their chaste mysterious rites 
Might turn to scandal or obscene delights. 
Well-meaners think no harm ; but for the rest, 205 



62 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Things sacred they pervert, and silence is the best. 
Her shining hair, uncombed, was loosely spread, 
A crown of mastless oak adorned her head : 
When to the shrine approached, the spotless maid 
Had kindling fires on either altar laid ; 210 

(The rites were such as were observed of old, 
By Statius in his Theban story told.) 
Then kneeling with her hands across her breast, 
Thus lowly she preferred her chaste request. 

u O Goddess, haunter of the woodland green, 215 
To whom both heaven and earth and seas are seen ; 
Queen of the nether skies, where half the year 
Thy silver beams descend, and light the gloomy sphere ; 
Goddess of maids, and conscious of our hearts, 
So keep me from the vengeance of thy darts, 220 

(Which Niobe's devoted issue felt, 
When hissing through the skies the feathered deaths 

were dealt, ) 
As I desire to live a virgin life, 
Nor know the name of mother or of wife. 
Thy votress from my tender years I am, 225 

And love, like thee, the woods and sylvan game. 
Like death, thou knowest, I loathe the nuptial state, 
And man, the tyrant of our sex, I hate,° 
A lowly servant, but a lofty mate ; ° 



BOOK III 63 

Where love is duty on the female side, 230 

On theirs mere sensual gust, and sought with surly 

pride. 
Now by thy triple shape, as thou art seen 
In heaven, earth, hell, and everywhere a queen, 
Grant this my first desire ; let discord cease, 
And make betwixt the rivals lasting peace: 235 

Quench their hot fire, or far from me remove 
The flame, and turn it on some other love ; 
Or if my frowning stars have so decreed, 
That one must be rejected, one succeed, 
Make him my lord, within whose faithful breast 240 
Is fixed my image, and who loves me best. 
But oh ! even that avert ! I choose it not, 
But take it as the least unhappy lot. 
A maid I am, and of thy virgin train • 
Oh, let me still that spotless name retain ! 245 

Frequent the forests, thy chaste will obey, 
And only make the beasts of chace my prey ! " 

The flames ascend on either altar clear, 
While thus the blameless maid addressed her prayer. 
When lo ! the burning fire that shone so bright 250 
Flew off, all sudden, with extinguished light, 
And left one altar dark, a little space, 
Which turned self -kindled, and renewed the blaze ; 



64 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

That other victor-flame a moment stood, 

Then fell, and lifeless left the extinguished wood ; 255 

For ever lost, the irrevocable light 

Forsook the blackening coals, and sunk to night : 

At either end it whistled as it flew, 

And as the brands were green, so dropped the dew, 

Infected as it fell with sweat of sanguine hue. 260 

The maid from that ill omen turned her eyes, 
And with loud shrieks and clamours rent the skies ; 
Nor knew what signified the boding sign, 
But found the powers displeased, and feared the wrath 
divine. 

Then shook the sacred shrine, and sudden light 265 
Sprung through the vaulted roof, and made the temple 

bright. 
The Power, behold ! the Power in glory shone, 
By her bent bow and her keen arrows known ; 
The rest, a huntress issuing from the wood, 
Reclining on her cornel spear she stood. 270 

Then gracious thus began : " Dismiss thy fear, 
And Heaven's unchanged decrees attentive hear : 
More powerful gods have torn thee from my side, 
Unwilling to resign, and doomed a bride ; 
The two contending knights are weighed above ; 2-5 
One Mars protects, and one the Queen of Love : 



BOOK III 65 

But which the man is in the Thunderer's breast ; ° 

This he pronounced, ' 'Tis he who loves thee best.' 

The fire that, once extinct, revived again 

Foreshows the love allotted to remain. 280 

Farewell ! " she said, and vanished from the place ; 

The sheaf of arrows shook, and rattled in the case. 

Aghast at this, the royal virgin stood, 

Disclaimed, and now no more a sister of the wood : 

But to the parting Goddess thus she prayed : 285 

" Propitious still, be present to my aid, 

Nor quite abandon your once favoured maid." 

Then sighing she returned ; but smiled, betwixt, 

With hopes, and fears, and joys with sorrows mixt. 

The next returning planetary hour 290 

Of Mars, who shared the heptarchy of power, 
His steps bold Arcite to the temple bent, 
To adorn with pagan rites the power armipotent : 
Then prostrate, low before his altar lay, 
And raised his manly voice, and thus began to pray : 295 
" Strong God of Arms, whose iron sceptre sways 
The freezing North, and Hyperborean seas, 
And Scythian colds, and Thracia's wintry coast, 
Where stand thy steeds, and thou art honoured most : 
There most, but everywhere thy power is known, 300 
The fortune of the fight is all thy own: 



66 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Terror is thine, and wild amazement, flung 

From out thy chariot, withers even the strong ; 

And disarray and shameful rout ensue, 

And force is added to the fainting crew. 305 

Acknowledged as thou art, accept my prayer ! 

If aught I have achieved deserve thy care, 

If to my utmost power with sword and shield 

I dared the death, unknowing how to yield, 

And falling in my rank, still kept the field ; 310 

Then let my arms prevail, by thee sustained, 

That Emily by conquest may be gained. 

Have pity on my pains ; nor those unknown 

To Mars, which, when a lover, were his own. 

Venus, the public care of all above, 315 

Thy stubborn heart has softened into love : 

By those dear pleasures, aid my arms in fight, 

And make me conquer in my patron's right : 

For I am young,- a novice in the trade, 

The fool of love, unpractised to persuade, 320 

And want the soothing arts that catch the fair, 

But, caught my self, lie struggling in the snare ; 

And she I love or laughs at all my pain 

Or knows her worth too well, and pays me with disdain. 

For sure I am, unless I win in arms, 325 

To stand excluded from Emilia's charms : 



BOOK III 67 

Nor can my strength avail, unless by thee 
Endued with force I gain the victory ; 
Then for the fire which warmed thy generous heart, 
Pity thy subject's pains and equal smart. 330 

So be the morrow's sweat and labour mine, 
The palm and honour of the conquest thine : 
Then shall the war, and stern debate, and strife 
Immortal be the business of my life ; 
And in thy fane, the dusty spoils among, 335 

High on the burnished roof, my banner shall be hung, 
Ranked with my champion's bucklers ; and below, 
With arms reversed, the atchievements of my foe ; 
And while these limbs the vital spirit feeds, 
While day to night and night to day succeeds, 340 

Thy smoking altar shall be fat with food 
Of incense and the grateful steam of blood ; 
Burnt-offerings morn and evening shall be thine, 
And fires eternal in thy temple shine. 
The bush of yellow beard, this length of hair, 345 

Which from my birth inviolate I bear, 
Guiltless of steel, and from the razor free, 
Shall fall a plenteous crop, reserved for thee. 
So may my arms with victory be blest, 
I ask no more ; let Fate dispose the rest." 350 

The champion ceased ; there followed in the close 



68 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

A hollow groan ; a murmuring wind arose ; ° 

The rings of iron, that on the doors were hung, 

Sent out a jarring sound, and harshly rung : 

The bolted gates flew open at the blast, 355 

The storm rushed in, and Arcite stood aghast : 

The flames were blown aside, yet shone they bright, 

Fanned by the wind, and gave a ruflied light. 

Then from the ground a scent began to rise, 
Sweet smelling as accepted sacrifice : 360 

This omen pleased, and as the flames aspire, 
With odorous incense Arcite heaps the fire : 
Nor wanted hymns to Mars or heathen charms : ° 
At length the nodding statue clashed his arms, 
And with a sullen sound and feeble cry, 365 

Half sunk and half pronounced the word of Victory. 
For this, with soul devout, he thanked the God, 
And, of success secure, returned to his abode. 

These vows, thus granted, raised a strife above 
Betwixt the God of War and Queen of Love. 370 

She, granting first, had right of time to plead ; 
But he had granted too, nor would recede. 
Jove was for Venus, but he feared his wife, 
And seemed unwilling to decide the strife ; 
Till Saturn from his leaden throne arose, 375 

And found a way the difference to compose : 



BOOK III 69 

Though sparing of his grace, to mischief bent, 

He seldom does a good with good intent. 

Wayward, but wise ; by long experience taught, 

To please both parties, for ill ends, he sought : 380 

For this advantage age from youth has won,° 

As not to be outridden, though outrun. 

By fortune he was now to Venus trined, 

And with stern Mars in Capricorn was joined : 

Of him disposing in his own abode, 385 

He soothed the Goddess, while he gulled the God : 

"Cease, daughter, to complain, and stint the strife; 

Thy Palamon shall have his promised wife : 

And Mars, the lord of conquest, in the fight 

With palm and laurel shall adorn his knight. 390 

Wide is my course, nor turn I to my place 

Till length of time, and move with tardy pace. 

Man feels me, when I press the etherial plains ; ° 

My hand is heavy, and the wound remains. 

Mine is the shipwreck in a watery sign ; 395 

And in an earthy the dark dungeon mine. 

Cold shivering agues, melancholy care, 

And bitter blasting winds, and poisoned air, 

Are mine, and wilful death, resulting from despair. 

The throttling quinsey 'tis my star appoints, 400 

And rheumatisms I send to rack the joints : 



70 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

When churls rebel against their native prince, 

I arm their hands, and furnish the pretence ; 

And housing in the lion's hateful sign, 

Bought senates and deserting troops are mine. 405 

Mine is the privy poisoning ; I command 

Unkindly seasons and ungrateful land. 

By me kings' palaces are pushed to ground, 

And miners crushed beneath their mines are found. 

'Twas I slew Samson, when the pillared hall 410 

Fell down, and crushed the many with the fall. 

My looking is the sire of pestilence, 

That sweeps at once the people and the prince. 

Now weep no more, but trust thy grandsire's art, 

Mars shall be pleased, and thou perform thy part. 415 

'Tis ill, though different your complexions are, 

The family of Heaven for men should war." 

The expedient pleased, where neither lost his right ; 

Mars had the day, and Venus had the night. 

The management they left to Chronos' ° care. 420 

Now turn Ave to the effect, and sing the war. 

In Athens all was pleasure, mirth, and play, 
All proper to the spring, and sprightly May : 
Which every soul inspired with such delight, 
'Twas justing all the day, and love at night. 425 

Heaven smiled, and gladded was the heart of man ; 



BOOK III 71 

And Venus had the world as when it first began. 
At length in sleep their bodies they compose, 
And dreamt the future fight, and early rose. 

Now scarce the dawning day began to spring, 430 
As at a signal given, the streets with clamours ring : 
At once the crowd arose ; confused and high, 
Even from the heaven was heard a shouting cry,° 
For Mars was early up, and roused the sky. 
The gods came downward to behold the wars, 435 

Sharpening their sights, and leaning from their stars. 
The neighing of the generous horse was heard, 
For battle by the busy groom prepared : 
Rustling of harness, rattling of the shield, 
Clattering of armour, furbished for the field. 44 o 

Crowds to the castle mounted up the street ; 
Battering the pavement with their coursers' feet : 
The greedy sight might there devour the gold 
Of glittering arms, too dazzling to behold : 
And polished steel that cast the view aside, 445 

And crested morions, with their plumy pride. 
Knights, with a long retinue of their squires, 
In gaudy liveries march, and quaint attires. 
One laced the helm, another held the lance ; 
A third the shining buckler did advance. 450 

The courser pawed the ground with restless feet, 



72 PALAMON AND ABCITE 

And snorting foamed, and champed the golden bit. 
The smiths and armonrers on palfreys ride,' 
Files in their hands, and hammers at their side, 
And nails for loosened spears and thongs for shields 

provide. 455 

The yeomen guard the streets in seemly bands ; 
And clowns come crowding on, with cudgels in their 

hands. 
The trumpets, next the gate, in order placed, 
Attend the sign to sound the martial blast : 
The palace yard is filled with floating tides, 460 

And the last comers bear the former to the sides. 
The throng is in the midst ; the common crew 
Shut out, the hall admits the better few. 
In knots they stand, or in a rank they walk, 
Serious in aspect, earnest in their talk ; 465 

Factious, and favouring this or t'other side, 
As their strong fancies and weak reason guide ; 
Their wagers back their wishes ; numbers hold 
With the fair freckled king, and beard of gold : 
So vigorous are his eyes, such rays they cast, 470 

So prominent his eagle's beak is placed. 
But most their looks on the black monarch bend ; 
His rising muscles and his brawn commend; 
His double-biting axe, and beamy spear, 



BOOK III 73 

Each asking a gigantic force to rear. 475 

All spoke as partial favour moved the mind ; 
And, safe themselves, at others' cost divined. 

Waked by the cries, the Athenian chief arose, 
The knightly forms of combat to dispose ; 
And passing through the obsequious guards, he sate 
Conspicuous on a throne, sublime in state; 481 

There, for the two contending knights he sent ; 
Armed cap-a-pe,° with reverence low they bent ; 
He smiled on both, and with superior look 
Alike their offered adoration took. 485 

The people press on every side to see 
Their awful Prince, and hear his high decree. 
Then signing to their heralds with his hand, 
They gave his orders from their lofty stand. 
Silence is thrice enjoined ; then thus aloud 49 o 

The king-at-arms° bespeaks the knights and listening 
crowd : 

"Our sovereign lord has pondered in his mind 
The means to spare the blood of gentle kind ; ° 
And of his grace and inborn clemency 
He modifies his first severe decree, 495 

The keener edge of battle to rebate, 
The troops for honour fighting, not for hate. 
He wills, not death should terminate their strife, 



74 PAL AM ON AND ARCITE 

And wounds, if wounds ensue, be short of life ; 

But issues, ere the fight, his dread command, 500 

That slings afar, and poniards hand to hand, 

Be banished from the field ; that none shall dare 

With shortened sword to stab in closer war ; 

But in fair combat fight with manly strength, 

Nor push with biting point, but strike at length. 505 

The turney is allowed but one career 

Of the tough ash, with the sharp-grinded spear ; 

But knights unhorsed may rise from off the plain, 

And fight on foot their honour to regain ; 

Nor, if at mischief taken, on the ground 510 

Be slain, but prisoners to the pillar bound, 

At either barrier placed ; nor, captives made, 

Be freed, or armed anew the fight invade : ° 

The chief of either side, bereft of life, 

Or yielded to his foe, concludes the strife. 515 

Thus dooms the lord : now valiant knights and young, 

Fight each his fill, with swords and maces long." 

The herald ends : the vaulted firmament 
With loud acclaims and vast applause is rent : 
Heaven guard a Prince so gracious and so good, 520 
So just, and yet so provident of blood! 
This was the general cry. The trumpets sound, 
And warlike symphony is heard around. 



BOOK III 75 

The marching troops through Athens take their way, 

The great Earl-marshal orders their array. 525 

The fair from high the passing pomp behold ; 

A rain of flowers is from the windows rolled. 

The casements are with golden tissue spread, 

And horses' hoofs, for earth, on silken tapestry 

tread. 
The King goes midmost, and the rivals ride 530 

In equal rank, and close his either side. 
Next after these there rode the royal wife, 
With Emily, the cause and the reward of strife. 
The following cavalcade, by three and three, 
Proceed by titles marshalled in degree. 535 

Thus through the southern gate they take their way, 
And at the list arrived ere prime of day. 
There, parting from the King, the chiefs divide, 
And wheeling east and west, before their many 

ride. 
The Athenian monarch mounts his throne on high, 540 
And after him the Queen and Emily : 
Next these, the kindred of the crown are graced 
With nearer seats, and lords by ladies placed. 
Scarce were they seated, when with clamours loud 
In rushed at once a rude promiscuous crowd, 545 

The guards, and then each other overbear, 



76 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

And in a moment throng the spacious theatre. 

Now changed the jarring noise to whispers low, 

As winds forsaking seas more softly blow, 

When at the western gate, on which the car 550 

Is placed aloft that bears the God of War, 

Proud Arcite entering armed before his train 

Stops at the barrier, and divides the plain. 

Eed was his banner, and displayed abroad 

The bloody colours of his patron god. 555 

At that self moment enters Palamon 
The gate of Venus, and the rising Sun ; 
Waved by the wanton winds, his banner flies, 
All maiden white, and shares the people's eyes. 
From east to west, look all the world around, 560 

Two troops so matched were never to be found ; 
Such bodies built for strength, of equal age, 
In stature sized ; ° so proud an equipage : 
The nicest eye could no distinction make, 
AVhere lay the advantage, or what side to take. 565 

Thus ranged, the herald for the last proclaims 
A silence, while they answered to their names : 
For so the king decreed, to shun with care 
The fraud of musters false, the common bane of 

war. 
The tale° was just, and then the gates were closed; 570 



BOOK III 77 

And chief to chief, and troop to troop opposed. 
The heralds last retired, and loudly cried, 
" The fortune of the field be fairly tried ! " 
At this the challenger, with fierce defy, 
His trumpet sounds ; the challenged makes reply : 575 
With clangour rings the field, resounds the vaulted 

sky. 
Their vizors closed, their lances in the rest, 
Or at the helmet pointed or the crest, 
They vanish from the barrier, speed the race, 
And spurring see decrease the middle space. 580 

A cloud of smoke envelopes either host, 
And all at once the combatants are lost : 
Darkling they join adverse, and shock unseen, 
Coursers with coursers justling, men with men : 
As labouring in eclipse, a while they stay, 585 

Till the next blast of wind restores the day. 
They look anew : the beauteous form of fight 
Is changed, and war appears a grisly sight. 
Two troops in fair array one moment showed, 
The next, a field with fallen bodies strowed : 590 

Not half the number in their seats are found ; 
But men and steeds lie grovelling on the ground. 
The points of spears are stuck within the shield, 
The steeds without their riders scour the field. 



78 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

The knights unhorsed, on foot renew the fight ; 595 

The glittering fauchions cast a gleaming light ; 

Hauberks and helms are hewed with many a wound, 

Out spins the streaming blood, and dyes the ground. 

The mighty maces with such haste descend, 

They break the bones, and make the solid armour bend. 

This thrusts amid the throng with furious force ; 601 

Down goes, at once, the horseman and the horse : 

That courser stumbles on the fallen steed, 

And, floundering, throws the rider o'er his head. 

One rolls along, a football to his foes ; 605 

One with a broken truncheon deals his blows. 

This halting, this disabled with his wound, 

In triumph led, is to the pillar bound, 

Where by the king's award he must abide : 

There goes a captive led on t'other side. 610 

By fits they cease, and leaning on the lance, 

Take breath a while, and to new fight advance. 

Full oft the rivals met, and neither spared 
His utmost force, and each forgot to ward : ° 
The head of this was to the saddle bent, 615 

The other backward to the crupper sent : 
Both were by turns unhorsed ; the jealous blows 
Fall thick and heavy, when on foot they close. 
So deep their fauchions bite, that every stroke 



BOOK III 79 

Pierced to the quick; and equal wounds they gave 
and took. 620 

Borne far asunder by the tides of men, 
Like adamant and steel they met agen. 

So when a tiger sucks the bullock's blood, 
A famished lion issuing from the wood 
Roars lordly fierce, and challenges the food. 625 

Each claims possession, neither will obey, 
But both their paws are fastened on the prey ; 
They bite, they tear ; and while in vain they strive, 
The swains come armed between, and both to distance 
drive. 
At length, as Fate foredoomed, and all things tend 
By course of time to their appointed end ; 631 

So when the sun to west was far declined, 
And both afresh in mortal battle joined, 
The strong Emetrius came in Arcite's aid, 
And Palamon with odds was overlaid : ° 635 

For, turning short, he struck with all his might 
Full on the helmet of the unwary knight. 
Deep was the wound ; he staggered with the blow, 
And turned him to his unexpected foe ; 
Whom with such force he struck, he felled him down, 
And cleft the circle of his golden crown. 641 

But Arcite's men, who now prevailed in fight, 



80 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Twice ten at once surround the single knight : 
O'erpowered at length, they force him to the ground, 
Unyielded as he was, and to the pillar bound ; 645 

And king Lycurgus, while he fought in vain 
His friend to free, was tumbled on the plain. 

Who now laments but Palamon, compelled 
No more to try the fortune of the field, 
And, worse than death, to view with hateful eyes 650 
His rival's conquest, and renounce the prize ! 

The royal judge on his tribunal placed, 
Who had beheld the fight from first to last, 
Bad cease the war ; pronouncing from on high, 
Arcite of Thebes had won the beauteous Emily. 655 
The sound of trumpets to the voice replied, 
And round the royal lists the heralds cried, 
" Arcite of Thebes has won the beauteous bride ! " 

The people rend the skies with vast applause ; 
All own° the chief, when Fortune owns the cause. 660 
Arcite is owned even by the gods above, 
And conquering Mars insults the Queen of Love. 
So laughed he when the rightful Titan failed, 
And Jove's usurping arms in heaven prevailed. 
Laughed all the powers who favour tyranny, 665 

And all the standing army of the sky. 
But Venus with dejected eyes appears, 



BOOK III 81 

And weeping on the lists distilled her tears ; 

Her will refused, which grieves a woman most, 

And, in her champion foiled, the cause of Love is lost. 

Till Saturn said : — " Fair daughter, now be still, 671 

The blustering fool has satisfied his will ; 

His boon is given ; his knight has gained the day, 

But lost the prize ; the arrears are yet to pay. 

Thy hour is come, and mine the care shall be 675 

To please thy knight, and set thy promise free." 

Now while the heralds run the lists around, 
And Arcite ! Arcite ! heaven and earth resound, 
A miracle (nor less it could be called) 
Their joy with unexpected sorrow palled. 680 

The victor knight had laid his helm aside, 
Part for his ease, the greater part for pride ; 
Bareheaded, popularly low he bowed, 
And paid the salutations of the crowd ; 
Then spurring, at full speed, ran endlong on 685 

Where Theseus sat on his imperial throne ; 
Furious he drove, and upward cast his eye, 
Where, next the Queen, was placed his Emily ; 
Then passing, to the saddle-bow he bent ; 
A sweet regard the gracious virgin lent ; 690 

(For women, to the brave an easy prey, 
Still follow Fortune, where she leads the way :) 



82 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Just then from earth sprung out a flashing fire, 
By Pluto sent, at Saturn's bad desire : 
The startling steed was seized with sudden fright, 695 
And, bounding, o'er the pummel cast the knight ; 
Forward he flew, and pitching on his head, 
He quivered with his feet, and lay for dead. 
Black was his countenance in a little space, 
For all the blood was gathered in his face. 700 

Help was at hand : they reared him from the ground, 
And from his cumbrous arms his limbs unbound ; 
Then lanced a vein, and watched returning breath ; 
It came, but clogged with symptoms of his death. 
The saddle-bow the noble parts had prest, 705 

All bruised and mortified his manly breast. 
Him still entranced, and in a litter laid, 
They bore from field, and to his bed conveyed. 
At length he waked ; and, with a feeble cry, 
The word he first pronounced was Emily. 710 

Mean time the King, though inwardly he mourned, 
In pomp triumphant to the town returned, 
Attended by the chiefs who fought the field, 
(Now friendly mixed, and in one troop compelled ;)° 
Composed his looks to counterfeited cheer, 715 

And bade them not for Arcite's life to fear. 
But that which gladded all the warrior train, 



BOOK III 83 

Though most were sorely wounded, none were slain. 
The surgeons soon despoiled them of their arms, 
And some with salves they cure, and some with 

charms ; 720 

Foment the bruises, and the pains assuage, 
And heal their inward hurts with sovereign draughts 

of sage. 
The King in person visits all around, 
Comforts the sick, congratulates the sound ; 
Honours the princely chiefs, rewards the rest, 725 

And holds for thrice three days a royal feast. 
None was disgraced; for falling is no shame, 
And cowardice alone is loss of fame. 
The venturous knight is from the saddle thrown, 
But 'tis the fault of fortune, not his own ; 730 

If crowds and palms the conquering side adorn, 
The victor under better stars was born : 
The brave man seeks not popular applause, 
Nor, overpowered with arms, deserts his cause ; 
Unshamed, though foiled, he does the best he can : 735 
Force is of brutes, but honour is of man. 

Thus Theseus smiled on all with equal grace, 
And each was set according to his place ; 
With ease were reconciled the differing parts, 
For envy never dwells in noble hearts. 740 



84 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

At length they took their leave, the time expired, 
Well pleased, and to their several homes retired. 
Mean while, the health of Arcite still impairs ; 
From bad proceeds to worse, and mocks the leech's 

cares ; 
Swoln is his breast ; his inward pains increase ; 745 
All means are used, and all without success. 
The clottered blood lies heavy on his heart, 
Corrupts, and there remains in spite of art ; 
Nor breathing veins nor cupping will prevail ; 
All outward remedies and inward fail. 750 

The mould of nature's fabric is destroyed, 
Her vessels discomposed, her virtue void : 
The bellows of his lungs begins to swell ; 
All out of frame is every secret cell, 
Nor can the good receive, nor bad expel. 755 

Those breathing organs, thus within opprest, 
With venom soon distend the sinews of his breast. 
Nought profits him to save abandoned life, 
Nor vomit's upward aid, nor downward laxative. 
The midmost region battered and destroyed, 760 

When nature cannot work, the effect of art is void : ° 
For physic can but mend our crazy state, 
Patch an old building, not a new create. 
Arcite is doomed to die in all his pride, 



BOOK III 85 

Must leave his youth, and yield his beauteous bride, 765 

Gained hardly against right, and unenjoyed. 

When 'twas declared all hope of life was past, 

Conscience, that of all physic works the last, 

Caused him to send for Emily in haste. 

With her, at his desire, came Palamon; 770 

Then, on his pillow raised, he thus begun : 

" No language can express the smallest part 

Of what I feel, and suffer in my heart, 

For you, whom best I love and value most ; 

But to your service I bequeath my ghost ; 775 

Which, from this mortal body when untied, 

Unseen, unheard, shall hover at your side ; 

Nor fright you waking, nor your sleep offend, 

But wait officious, and your steps attend. 

How I have loved, excuse my faltering tongue, 780 

My spirit's feeble, and my pains are strong : 

This I may say, I only grieve to die, 

Because I lose my charming Emily. 

To die, when Heaven had put you in my power ! 

Fate could not choose a more malicious hour. 785 

What greater curse could envious Fortune give, 

Than just to die when I began to live ! 

Vain men ! how vanishing a bliss we crave ; 

Now warm in love, now withering in the grave ! ° 



86 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Never, never more to see the sun ! 790 

Still dark, in a damp vault, and still alone ! 

This fate is common ; but I lose my breath 

Near bliss, and yet not blessed before my death. 

Farewell ! but take me dying in your arms ; 

'Tis all I can enjoy of all your charms: 795 

This hand I cannot but in death resign ; 

Ah, could I live ! but while I live 'tis mine. 

I feel my end approach, and thus embraced 

Am pleased to die ; but hear me speak my last : 

Ah, my sweet foe ! for you, and you alone, 800 

I broke my faith with injured Palamon. 

But love the sense of right and wrong confounds ; 

Strong love and proud ambition have no bounds. 

And much I doubt, should Heaven my life prolong, 

I should return to justify my wrong ; S05 

For while my former flames remain within, 

Repentance is but want of power to sin. 

With mortal hatred I pursued his life, 

Nor he nor you were guilty of the strife ; 

Nor I, but as I loved ; yet all combined, 810 

Your beauty and my impotence of mind, 

And his concurrent flame that blew my fire, 

For still our kindred souls had one desire. 

He had a moment's right in point of time ; 



BOOK III 87 

Had I seen first, then his had been the crime. 815 

Fate made it mine, and justified his right ; 
Nor holds this earth a more deserving knight 
For virtue, valour, and for noble blood, 
Truth, honour, all that is comprised in good ; 
So help me Heaven, in all the world is none 820 

So worthy to be loved as Palamon. 
He loves you too, with such a holy fire, 
As will not, cannot, but with life expire : 
Our vowed affections both have often tried, 
Nor any love but yours could ours divide. 825 

Then, by my love's inviolable band, 
By my long suffering and my short command, 
If e'er you plight your vows when I am gone, 
Have pity on the faithful Palamon." 
This was his last ; for Death came on amain, 830 

And exercised below his iron reign ; 
Then upward to the seat of life he goes ; 
Sense fled before him, what he touched he froze : 
Yet could he not his closing eyes withdraw, 
Though less and less of Emily he saw ; 835 

So, speechless, for a little space he lay ; 
Then grasped the hand he held, and sighed his soul 
away. 
But whither went his soul ? let such relate 



88 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Who search the secrets of the future state : 

Divines can say but what themselves believe ; 840 

Strong proofs they have, but not demonstrative ; ° 

For, were all plain, then all sides must agree, 

And faith itself be lost in certainty. 

To live uprightly then is sure the best ; 

To save ourselves, and not to damn the rest. 845 

The soul of Arcite went where heathens go, 

Who better live than we, though less they know. 

In Palamon a manly grief appears ; ° 
Silent he wept, ashamed to show his tears. 
Emilia shrieked but once ; and then, opprest 850 

With sorrow, sunk upon her lover's breast : 
Till Theseus in his arms conveyed with care 
Far from so sad a sight the swooning fair. 
'Twere loss of time her sorrow to relate ; 
111 bears the sex a youthful lover's fate, 855 

When just approaching to the nuptial state : 
But, like a low-hung cloud, it rains so fast, 
That all at once it falls, and cannot last. 
The face of things is changed, and Athens now, 
That laughed so late, becomes the scene of woe. 860 
Matrons and maids, both sexes, every state, 
With tears lament the knight's untimely fate. 
Not greater grief in falling Troy was seen 



BOOK III 89 

For Hector's death ; but Hector was not then. 
Old men with dust deformed their hoary hair ; 865 

The women beat their breasts, their cheeks they tear. 
" Why wouldst thou go," with one consent they cry, 
" When thou hadst gold enough, and Emily ? " 

Theseus himself, who should have cheered the grief 
Of others, wanted now the same relief : 870 

Old iEgeus only could revive his son, 
Who various changes of the world had known, 
And strange vicissitudes of human fate, 
Still altering, never in a steady state : 
Good after ill and after pain delight, 875 

Alternate, like the scenes of day and night. 
Since every man who lives is born to die, 
And none can boast sincere felicity, 
With equal mind, what happens, let us bear, 
Nor joy, nor grieve too much for things beyond our 
care. 880 

Like pilgrims to the appointed place we tend ; 
The world's an inn, and death the journey's end. 
Even kings but play, and when their part is done, 
Some other, worse or better, mount the throne. 
With words like these the crowd was satisfied ; 885 
And so they would have been, had Theseus died. 
But he, their King, was labouring in his mind 



90 PAL AM ON AND ABCITE 

A fitting place for funeral pomps to find, 

Which were in honour of the dead designed. 

And, after long debate, at last he found 890 

(As Love itself had marked the spot of ground,) 

That grove for ever green, that conscious laund, 

Where he with Palamon fought hand to hand ; 

That, where he fed his amorous desires 

With soft complaints, and felt his hottest fires, 895 

There other flames might waste his earthly part, 

And burn his limbs, where love had burned his heart. 

This once resolved, the peasants were enjoined 
Sere-wood,° and firs, and doddered oaks to find. 
With sounding axes to the grove they go, 900 

Pell, split, and lay the fuel in a row ;° 
Vulcanian food : a bier is next prepared, 
On which the lifeless body should be reared, 
Covered with cloth of gold ; on which was laid 
The corps of Arcite, in like robes arrayed. 905 

White gloves Avere on his hands, and on his head 
A wreath of laurel, mixed with myrtle, spread. 
A sword keen-edged within his right he held, 
The warlike emblem of the conquered field: 
Bare was his manly visage on the bier ; 910 

Menaced his countenance, even in death severe. 
Then to the palace-hall they bore the knight, 



BOOK III 91 

To lie in solemn state, a public sight : 

Groans, cries, and howlings fill the crowded place, 

And unaffected sorrow sat on every face. 915 

Sad Palamon above the rest appears, 

In sable garments, dewed with gushing tears ; 

His auburn locks on either shoulder flowed, 

Which to the funeral of his friend he vowed ; 

But Emily, as chief, was next his side, 920 

A virgin-widow and a mourning bride. 

And, that the princely obsequies might be 

Performed according to his high degree, 

The steed, that bore him living to the fight, 

Was trapped with polished steel, all shining bright, 925 

And covered with the achievements of the knight. 

The riders rode abreast ; and one his shield, 

His lance of cornel-wood another held ; 

The third his bow, and, glorious to behold, 

The costly quiver, all of burnished gold. 930 

The noblest of the Grecians next appear, 

And weeping on their shoulders bore the bier; 

With sober pace they marched, and often stayed, 

And through the master-street the corps conveyed. 

The houses to their tops with black were spread, 935 

And even the pavements were with mourning hid. 

The right side of the pall old iEgeus kept, 



92 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

And on the left the royal Theseus wept ; 
Each bore a golden bowl of work divine, 
With honey filled, and milk, and mixed with ruddy 

wine. 940 

Then Palamon, the kinsman of the slain, 
And after him appeared the illustrious train. 
To grace the pomp came Emily the bright, 
With covered fire, the funeral pile to light. 
With high devotion was the service made, 945 

And all the rites of pagan honour paid : 
So lofty was the pile, a Parthian bow, 
With vigour drawn, must send the shaft below. 
The bottom was full twenty fathom broad, 
With crackling straw beneath in due proportion 

strowed. 950 

The fabric seemed a wood of rising green, 
With sulphur and bitumen cast between 
To feed the flames : the trees were unctuous fir, 
And mountain-ash, the mother of the spear; 
The mourner-yew and builder-oak were there, 955 

The beech, the swimming alder, and the plane, 
Hard box, and linden of a softer grain, 
And laurels, which the gods for conquering chiefs 

ordain. 
How they were ranked shall rest untold by me, 



BOOK III 93 

With nameless Nymphs that lived in every tree ; 960 

Nor how the Dryads and the woodland train, 

Disherited, ran howling o'er the plain : 

Nor how the birds to foreign seats repaired, 

Or beasts that bolted out and saw the forest bared : 

Nor how the ground now cleared with ghastly fright 

Beheld the sudden sun, a stranger to the light. 966 

The straw, as first I said, was laid below : 
Of chips and sere-wood was the second row ; 
The third of greens, and timber newly felled ; 
The fourth high stage the fragrant odours held, 970 
And pearls, and precious stones, and rich array ; 
In midst of which, embalmed, the body lay. 
The service sung, the maid with mourning eyes 
The stubble fired; the smouldering flames arise: 
This office done, she sunk upon the ground ; 975 

But what she spoke, recovered from her swound, 
I want the wit in moving words to dress ; 
But by themselves the tender sex may guess. 
While the devouring fire was burning fast, 
Kich jewels in the flame the wealthy cast ; 980 

And some their shields, and some their lances threw, 
And gave the warrior's ghost a warrior's due. 
Full bowls of wine, of honey, milk and blood 
Were poured upon the pile of burning wood, 



94 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

And hissing flames receive, and hungry lick the food. 
Then thrice the mounted squadrons ride around 986 
The fire, and Arcite's name they thrice resound : 
" Hail and farewell ! " they shouted thrice amain, 
Thrice facing to the left, and thrice they turned 

again : 
Still, as they turned, they beat their clattering shields ; 
The women mix their cries, and clamour fills the 

fields. 991 

The warlike wakes continued all the night, 
And funeral games were played at new returning light : 
Who naked wrestled best, besmeared with oil, 
Or who with gauntlets gave or took the foil, 995 

I will not tell you, nor would you attend ; 
But briefly haste to my long story's end. 

I pass the rest ; the year was fully mourned, 
And Palamon long since to Thebes returned : 
When, by the Grecians' general consent, 1000 

At Athens Theseus held his parliament ; 
Among the laws that passed, it was decreed, 
That conquered Thebes from bondage should be freed ; 
Reserving homage to the Athenian throne, 
To which the sovereign summoned Palamon. 1005 

Unknowing of the cause, he took his way, 
Mournful in mind, and still in black array. 



BOOK III 95 

The monarch mounts the throne, and, placed on high, 
Commands into the court the beauteous Emily. 
So called, she came ; the senate rose, and paid ioio 
Becoming reverence to the royal maid. 
And first, soft whispers through the assembly went ; 
With silent wonder then they watched the event ; ° 
All hushed, the King arose with awful grace ; 
Deep thought was in his breast, and counsel in his 
face : 1015 

At length he sighed, and having first prepared 
The attentive audience, thus his will declared : 

" The Cause and Spring of motion from above 
Hung down on earth the golden chain of Love ; 
Great was the effect, and high was his intent, 1020 

When peace among the jarring seeds he sent ; 
Fire, flood, and earth and air by this were bound, 
And Love, the common link, the new creation crowned. 
The chain still holds ; for though the forms decay, 
Eternal matter never wears away : 1025 

The same first mover certain bounds has placed, 
How long those perishable forms shall last ; 
Nor can they last beyond the time assigned 
By that all-seeing and all-making Mind : 
Shorten their hours they may, for will is free, 1030 
But never pass the appointed destiny. 



96 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

So men oppressed, when weary of their breath, 

Throw off the burden, and suborn their death. 

Then, since those forms begin, and have their end, 

On some unaltered cause they sure depend: 1035 

Farts of the whole are we, but G-od the whole, 

Who gives us life, and animating soul. 

For Nature cannot from a part derive 

That being which the whole can only give : 

He perfect, stable ; but imperfect we, 1040 

Subject to change, and different in degree; 

Plants, beasts, and man ; and, as our organs are, 

We more or less of his perfection share. 

But, by a long descent, the etherial fire 

Corrupts ; ° and forms, the mortal part, expire. 1045 

As he withdraws his virtue, so they pass, 

And the same matter makes another mass :° 

This law the omniscient Power was pleased to give, 

That every kind should by succession live ; 

That individuals die, his will ordains ; 1050 

The propagated species still remains. 

The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees, 

Shoots rising up, and spreads by slow degrees ; 

Three centuries he grows, and three he stays, 

Supreme in state, and in three more decays : 1055 

So wears the paving pebble in the street, 



BOOK III 97 

And towns and towers their fatal periods meet : 

So rivers, rapid once, now naked lie, 

Forsaken of their springs, and leave their channels 

dry. 
So man, at first a drop, dilates with heat, 1060 

Then, formed, the little heart begins to beat ; 
Secret he feeds, unknowing, in the cell ; 
At length, for hatching ripe, he breaks the shell, 
And struggles into breath, and cries for aid ; 
Then helpless in his mother's lap is laid. 1065 

He creeps, he walks, and, issuing into man, 
Grudges their life from whence his own began ; 
Reckless of laws, affects to rule alone, 
Anxious to reign, and restless on the throne ; 
First vegetive, then feels, and reasons last ; 1070 

Rich of three souls, and lives all three to waste. 
Some thus ; ° but thousands more in flower of age, 
For few arrive to run the latter stage. 
Sunk in the first, in battle some are slain, 
And others whelmed beneath the stormy main. 1075 
What makes all this, but Jupiter the king, 
At whose command we perish, and we spring ? 
Then 'tis our best, since thus ordained to die, 
To make a virtue of necessity ; ° 
Take what he gives, since to rebel is vain \ 1080 



98 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

The bad grows better, which we well sustain ; 

And could we choose the time, and choose aright, 

'Tis best to die, our honour at the height. 

When we have done our ancestors no shame, 

But served our friends, and well secured our fame ; 

Then should we wish our happy life to close, 1086 

And leave no more for fortune to dispose ; 

So should we make our death a glad relief 

From future shame, from sickness, and from grief ; 

Enjoying while we live the present hour, 1090 

And dying in our excellence and flower. 

Then round our death-bed every friend should run, 

And joy us° of our conquest early won ; 

While the malicious world, with envious tears, 

Should grudge our happy end, and wish it theirs. 1095 

Since then our Arcite is with honour dead, 

Why should we mourn, that he so soon is freed, 

Or call untimely what the gods decreed ? 

With grief as just a friend may be deplored, 

From a foul prison to free air restored. noo 

Ought he to thank his kinsman or his wife, 

Could tears recall him into wretched life ? 

Their sorrow hurts themselves ; on him is lost, 

And worse than both, offends his happy ghost. 

What then remains, but after past annoy 1105 



BOOK III 99 

To take the good vicissitude of joy ; ° 

To thank the gracious gods for what they give, 

Possess our souls, and, while we live, to live ? 

Ordain we then two sorrows to combine, 

And in one point the extremes of grief to join ; mo 

That thence resulting joy may be renewed, 

As jarring notes in harmony conclude. 

Then I propose that Palamon shall be 

In marriage joined with beauteous Emily; 

For which already I have gained the assent 1115 

Of my free people in full parliament. 

Long love to her has borne the faithful knight, 

And well deserved, had Fortune done him right : 

'Tis time to mend her fault, since Emily 

By Arcite's death from former vows is free; 1120 

If you, fair sister, ratify the accord, 

And take him for your husband and your lord, 

'Tis no dishonour to confer your grace 

On one descended from a royal race ; 

And were he less, yet years of service past 1125 

From grateful souls exact reward at last. 

Pity is Heaven's and yours ; nor can she find 

A throne so soft as in a woman's mind." 

He said ; she blushed ; and as o'erawed by might, 

Seemed to give Theseus what she gave the knight. 1130 



100 PALAMON AND ARCITE 

Then, turning to the Theban, thus he said : 

" Small arguments are needful to persuade 

Your temper to comply with my command : " 

And speaking thus, he gave Emilia's hand. 

Smiled Venus, to behold her own true knight 1135 

Obtain the conquest, though he lost the light. 

All of a tenor was their after-life, 

No day discoloured with domestic strife ; 

No jealousy, but mutual truth believed, 

Secure repose, and kindness undeceived. 1140 

Thus Heaven, beyond the compass of his thought, 

Sent him the blessing he so dearly bought. 

So may the Queen of Love long duty bless, 
And all true lovers find the same success. 



APPENDIX A 



DRYDEN'S DEDICATION TO "PALAMON AND 
ARCITE" 

Dryden lived in the earlier days of the Age of Patronage 
in the history of English letters. At that time, and for 
some time to come, it was difficult for the writer to earn 
an independence by his pen. Shakespeare and a few of his 
fellow-playwrights had been able to gain respectable, though 
precarious, incomes by their plays ; and Dryden did very well 
for some years by the same craft. In general, however, the 
man of letters had to rely on substantial backing by power- 
ful and wealthy patrons. So it was with Dryden. He had 
to do much ignominious begging, and he made a "fine art" 
of it. He did it unblushingly in the numerous Dedications 
prefixed to his various volumes. In these he shows himself 
to be a past-master in the art of obsequious flattery, some- 
times sinking to such depths of abject servility as to seem 
to be utterly lacking in self-respect. And yet in his per- 
sonal relations with his noble and wealthy friends he was 
by no means so servile, but showed a somewhat sturdy 
independence of character. Some light is thrown upon this 
inconsistency between the man and the begging author by 

101 



102 APPENDIX A 

the fact that D.ryden was ingloriously following a fashion 
of the time, when impecunious writers tried to outdo one 
another in the brilliancy of their dedicatory varnish. This 
will not excuse him, of course ; he was, in fact, one of the 
worst, because the most gifted, of offenders. As Dr. Johnson 
says in his pompous way, he was scarcely equalled " in the 
meanness and servility of hyperbolical adulation." How- 
ever, we ought not, perhaps, to take these dedications too 
seriously; their extravagances were, even at the time, as 
they are to us, all too palpable and ridiculous. 

The volume of Fables which contained Palamon and 
Arciie, was dedicated in Dry den's best strain of gushing 
flattery to the Duke of Ormond, the patronage of whose 
family, as he reminds the Duke, he had enjoyed for three 
generations. As if to make a continuance of this esteemed 
patronage doubly sure, he follows up this general dedication 
with a special dedication to the Duchess of Ormond, pre- 
fixed to Palamon and Arcite. This is of higher quality, and 
ranks as one of the very best of Dryden's attempts in this 
kind. Although it is packed with allusions that are obscure 
to the general reader, it contains the following graceful 
lines that merit quotation : — 

TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF ORMOND 

WITH THE FOLLOWING POEM OF 

PALAMON AND ARCITE FROM CHAUCER 

Madam, 
The bard who first adorned our native tongue 
Tuued to his British lyre this ancient song ; 



APPENDIX A 103 

Which Homer might without a blush reherse, 
And leaves a doubtful palm iu Virgil's verse : 
He matched their beauties, where they most excel ; 
Of love sung better, and of arms as well. 

Vouchsafe, illustrious Ormond, to behold 
What power the charms of beauty had of old ; 
Nor wonder if such deeds of arms were done, 
Inspired by two fair eyes that sparkled like your own. 

If Chaucer by the best idea wrought, 
And poets can divine each other's thought, 
The fairest nymph before his eyes he set ; 
And then the fairest was Plantagenet, 
Who three contending princes made her prize, 
And ruled the rival nations with her eyes ; 
Who left immortal trophies of her fame, 
And to the noblest order gave the name. 

Like her, of equal kindred to the throne, 
You keep her conquests, and extend your own : 
As when the stars, in their etherial race, 
At length have rolled around the liquid space, 
At certain periods they resume their place, 
From the same point of heaven their course advance, 
And move in measures of their former dance ; 
Thus, after length of ages, she returns, 
Restored in you, and the same place adorns : 
Or you perform her office in the sphere, 
Born of her blood, and make a new Platonic year. 

O true Plantagenet, O race divine, 
(For beauty still is fatal to the line,) 
Had Chaucer lived that angel-face to view, 
Sure he had drawn his Emily from you ; 
Or had you lived to judge the doubtful right, 
Your noble Palamon had been the knight ; 



104 APPENDIX A 

And conquering Theseus from his side had sent 
Your generous lord, to guide the Theban government. 

Time shall accomplish that ; and I shall see 
A Palamon in him, in you an Emily. 

Blessed be the power which has at once restored 
The hopes of lost succession to your lord ; 
Joy to the first and last of each degree, 
Virtue to courts, and, what I longed to see, 
To you the Graces, and the Muse to me. 

O daughter of the Rose, whose cheeks unite 
The differing titles of the Red and White; 
Who heaven's alternate beauty well display, 
The blush of morning and the milky way ; 
Whose face is Paradise, but fenced from sin ; 
For God in either eye has placed a cherubin. 

All is your lord's alone ; even absent, he 
Employs the care of chaste Penelope. 
For him you waste in tears your widowed hours, 
For him your curious needle paints the flowers ; 
Such works of old imperial dames were taught, 
Such for Ascanius fair Elissa wrought. 

The soft recesses of your hours improve 
The three fair pledges of your happy love : 
All other parts of pious duty done, 
You owe your Ormond nothing but a son, 
To fill in future times his father's place, 
And wear the garter of his mother's race. 



APPENDIX B 



EXTRACTS FROM THE PREFACE TO THE 
"FABLES" 

These passages are well worth reading, first, because they 
are a good introduction to Dryden as a prosaist and a critic ; 
then, because they give his own and his age's attitude to 
Chaucer ; and, further, for the sake of the information con- 
tained in them. Along with his tributes to his great fore- 
runner, we may recall Tennyson's charming verse praising — 

" Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath 
Preluded those melodious bursts that fill 
The spacious times of great Elizabeth 
With sounds that echo still." 

'Tis with a poet as with a man who designs to build, and 
is very exact, as he supposes, in casting up the cost before- 
hand ; but, generally speaking, he is mistaken in his account, 
and reckons short of the expense he first intended : he alters 
his mind as the work proceeds, and will have this or that 
convenience more, of which he had not thought when he 
began. So has it happened to me. I have built a house, 
where I intended but a lodge ; yet with better success than 

105 



106 APPENDIX B 

a certain nobleman, who, beginning with a dog-kennel, never 
lived to finish the palace he had contrived. 

From translating the first of Homer's Iliads (which I 
intended as an essay to the whole work) I proceeded to the 
translation of the twelfth book of Ovid's Metamorphoses, 
because it contains, among other things, the causes, the 
beginning, and ending of the Trojan war. Here I ought 
in reason to have stopped; but the speeches of Ajax and 
Ulysses lying next in my way, I could not balk them. 
When I had compassed them, I was so taken with the 
former part of the fifteenth book (which is the masterpiece 
of the whole Metamorphoses) that I enjoined my self the 
pleasing task of rendering it into English. 

Having done with Ovid for this time, it came into my 
mind that our old English poet, Chaucer, in many things 
resembled him, and that, with no disadvantage on the side 
of the modern author, as I shall endeavour to prove when I 
compare them ; and as I am, and always have been, studious 
to promote the honour of my native country, so I soon 
resolved to put their merits to the trial, by turning some of 
the Canterbury Tales into our language, as it is now refined. 
********* 

With Ovid ended the golden age of the Roman tongue : 
from Chaucer the purity of the English tongue began. The 
manners of the poets were not unlike : both of them were 
well-bred, well-natured, 



APPENDIX B 107 

• 
their writings, it may be also in their lives. Their studies 
were the same, philosophy and philology. Both of them 
were knowing in astronomy, of which Ovid's books of the 
Roman feasts, and Chaucer's treatise of the Astrolabe, are 
sufficient witnesses. But Chaucer was likewise an astrolo- 
ger, as were Virgil, Horace, Perseus, and Manilius. Both 
writ with wonderful facility and clearness : neither were 
great inventors; for Ovid only copied the Grecian fables; 
and most of Chaucer's stories were taken from his Italian 
contemporaries or their predecessors. Boccace his Decameron 
was first published; and from thence our Englishman has 
borrowed many of his Canterbury Tales ; yet that of Pala- 
mon and Arcite was written, in all probability, by some 
Italian wit in a former age, as I shall prove hereafter : the 
tale of Grizild was the invention of Petrarch, by him sent to 
Boccace, from whom it came to Chaucer. Troilus and Cres- 
sida was also written by a Lombard author; but much 
amplified by our English translator, as well as beautified ; 
the genius of our countrymen in general being rather to 
improve an invention, than to invent themselves ; as is evi- 
dent not only in our poetry, but in many of our manufactures. 



In the first place, as he is the father of English poetry, so 
I hold him in the same degree of veneration as the Grecians 
held Homer, or the Romans Virgil : he is a perpetual foun- 
tain of good sense; learned in all sciences; and therefore 
speaks properly on all subjects; as he knew what to say, so 



108 APPENDIX B 

he knows also when to leave off, a continence which is prac- 
tised by few writers, and scarcely by any of the ancients, 
excepting Virgil and Horace. 

Chaucer followed nature everywhere; but was never so 
bold to go beyond her: and there is a great difference of 
being Poeta and nimis Poeta, if we believe Catullus, as much 
as betwixt a modest behaviour and affectation. The verse 
of Chaucer, I confess, is not harmonious to us ; but is like 
the eloquence of one whom Tacitus commends, it was auri- 
bus istius temporis accommodata : they who lived with him, 
and some time after him, thought it musical ; and it con- 
tinues so even in our judgment, if compared with the num- 
bers of Lydgate and Gower, his contemporaries : there is 
the rude sweetness of a Scotch tune in it, which is natural 
and pleasing, though not perfect. 'Tis true, I cannot go so 
far as he who published the last edition of him ; for he 
would make us believe the fault is in our ears, and that 
there were really ten syllables in a verse where we find but 
nine : but this opinion is not worth confuting ; 'tis so gross 
and obvious an error, that common sense (which is a rule in 
everything but matters of faith and revelation) must con- 
vince the reader, that equality of numbers in every verse 
which we call heroic, was either not known, or not always 
practised in Chaucer's age. It w 7 ere an easy matter to pro- 
duce some thousands of his verses, which are lame for want 
of half a foot, and sometimes a whole one, and which no 
pronunciation can make otherwise. We can only say, that 
he lived in the infancy of our poetry, and that nothing is 



APPENDIX B 109 

brought to perfection at the first. We must be children 
before we grow men. 

He must have been a man of a most wonderful com- 
prehensive nature, because, as it has been truly observed 
of him, he has taken into the compass of his Canterbury 
Tales the various manners and humours (as we now call 
them) of the whole English nation, in his age. Not a 
single character has escaped him. All his pilgrims are 
severally distinguished from each other; and not only in 
their inclinations, but in their very physiognomies and per- 
sons. Baptista Porta could not have described their natures 
better than by the marks which the poet gives them. The 
matter and manner of their tales and of their telling are so 
suited to their different educations, humours, and callings, 
that each of them would be improper in any other mouth. 
Even the grave and serious characters are distinguished by 
their several sorts of gravity: their discourses are such as 
belong to their age, their calling, and their breeding ; such 
as are becoming of them, and of them only. Some of his 
persons are vicious, and some virtuous ; some are unlearned 
or (as Chaucer calls them) lewd, and some are learned. 
Even the ribaldry of the low characters is different : the 
Reeve, the Miller, and the Cook are several men, and dis- 
tinguished from each other, as much as the mincing lady 
Prioress and the broad-speaking gap-toothed Wife of Bath. 
But enough of this : there is such a variety of game spring- 
ing up before me, that I am distracted in my choice, and 



HO APPENDIX B 

know not which to follow. 'Tis sufficient to say, according 
to the proverb, that here is God's plenty. We have our 
forefathers and great-grandames all before us, as they were 
in Chaucer's days ; their general characters are still remain- 
ing in mankind, and even in England, though they are 
called by other names than those of Monks and Friars, and 
Canons, and lady Abbesses, and Nuns : for mankind is ever 
the same, and nothing lost out of nature, though everything 
is altered. 

********* 
Chaucer, I confess, is a rough diamond; and must first 
be polished ere he shines. I deny not, likewise, that, living 
in our early days of poetry, he writes not always of a piece, 
but sometimes mingles trivial things with those of greater 
moment. Sometimes also, though not often, he runs riot, 
like Ovid, and knows not when he has said enough. . . . 
Having observed this redundancy in Chaucer (as it is an 
easy matter for a man of ordinary parts to find a fault in 
one of greater), I have not tied myself to a literal translation ; 
but have often omitted what I judged unnecessary, or not of 
dignity enough to appear in the company of better thoughts. 
I have presumed farther in some places ; and added some- 
what of my own where I thought my author was deficient, 
and had not given his thoughts their true lustre, for want 
of words in the beginning of our language. And to this 
I was the more emboldened, because (if I may be permitted 
to say it of myself) I found I had a soul congenial to his, 
and that I had been conversant in the same studies. . . . 



APPENDIX B 111 

But there are other judges who think I ought not to have 
translated Chaucer into English, out of a quite contrary 
notion. They suppose there is a certain veneration due to 
his old language ; and that it is a little less than profanation 
and sacrilege to alter it. They are farther of opinion, that 
somewhat of his good sense will suffer in this transfusion, 
and much of the beauty of his thoughts will infallibly be 
lost, which appear with more grace in their old habit. Of 
this opinion was that excellent person whom I mentioned, 
the late Earl of Leicester. . . . Yet my reason was not con- 
vinced with what he urged against it. If the first end of 
a writer be to be understood, then, as his language grows 
obsolete, his thoughts must grow obscure : — 

" Multa renascentur quae jam cecidere, cadentque 
Quae nuuc sunt in honore vocabula, si volet usus, 
Quem penes arbitrium est et jus et norma loquendi." 

When an ancient word for its sound and significancy de- 
serves to be revived, I have that reasonable veneration for 
antiquity to restore it. All beyond this is superstition. 
Words are not like landmarks, so sacred as never to be 
removed. Customs are changed; and even statutes are 
silently repealed, when the reason ceases for which they 
were enacted. As for the other part of the argument, that 
his thoughts will lose of their original beauty, by the inno- 
vation of words : in the first place, not only their beauty, 
but their being is lost, where they are no longer understood ; 
which is the present case. I grant that something must be 



112 APPENDIX B 

lost in all transfusion, that is, in all translations ; but the 
sense will remain, which would otherwise be lost, or at least 
be maimed, when it is scarce intelligible, and that but to a 
few. How few are there who can read Chaucer, so as to 
understand him perfectly ! And if imperfectly, then with 
less profit and no pleasure. "Tis not for the use of some 
old Saxon friends that I have taken these pains with him : 
let them neglect my version, because they have no need of 
it. I made it for their sakes who understand sense and 
poetry as well as they, when that poetry and sense is put 
into words which they understand. I will go farther, and 
dare to add, that what beauties I lose in some places I give 
to others which had them not originally. But in this I may 
be partial to my self. Let the reader judge : and I submit 
to his decision. Yet I think I have just occasion to com- 
plain of them, who, because they understand Chaucer, would 
deprive the greater part of their countrymen of the same 
advantage, and hoard him up, as misers do their grandam 
gold, only to look on it themselves, and hinder others from 
making use of it. In sum, I seriously protest, that no man 
ever had, or can have, a greater veneration for Chaucer than 
my self. I have translated some part of his works, only that 
I might perpetuate his memory, or at least refresh it, amongst 
my countrymen. If I have altered him anywhere for the 
better, I must at the same time acknowledge that I could 
have done nothing without him: Facile est inventis addere 
is no great commendation; and I am not so vain to think 
I have deserved a greater. . . . 



APPENDIX B 113 

T prefer in our countryman, far above all his other stories, 
the noble poem of Palamon and Arcite, which is of the epic 
kind, and perhaps not much inferior to the Ilias or the 
jEneis. The story is more pleasing than either of them, 
the manners as perfect, the diction as poetical, the learning 
as deep and various, and the disposition full as artful ; only 
it includes a greater length of time, as taking up seven years 
at least ; but Aristotle has left undecided the duration of 
the action, which yet is easily reduced into the compass of 
a year by a narration of what preceded the return of Palamon 
to Athens. I had thought for the honour of our nation, and 
more particularly for his whose laurel, though unworthy, I 
have worn after him, that this story was of English growth 
and Chaucer's own ; but I was undeceived by Boccace ; for, 
casually looking on the end of his seventh Giornata, I found 
Dioneo (under which name he shadows himself) and Fia- 
metta (who represents his mistress, the natural daughter of 
Robert, king of Naples), of whom these words are spoken, — 
Dioneo e lo Fiametta gran pezza cantarono insieme d' Arcita, 
e di Palamone: by which it appears that this story was 
written before the time of Boccace; but the name of its 
author being wholly lost, Chaucer is now become an origi- 
nal; and I question not but the poem has received many 
beauties by passing through his noble hands. 



114 



CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE 



o 

H 

CO 

13 H 

W H 
H 

* j 
— I— ' 

^ 
Ph ^ 

H 

H 

O 

O 


Charles I. began to reign 1625. 

Milton's L' Allegro and27 Penseroso. 

Milton's Comus. 

Milton's Lycidas. 

Ben Jonson died. 

Long Parliament assembled. 

Theatres closed. 

Browne's Re/igio Medici. 

Opening of the civil war between 

Charles I. and Parliament. 
Royalist defeat on Marston Moor. 
Milton's Areopagitica. 
Waller's Poems. 
Herrick's Hesperides. 
Charles I. beheaded. 
Cromwell subdues Ireland. 
Baxter's Saints' Everlasting Rest. 
Jeremy Taylor's Holy Living. 

Hobbes's Leviathan. 
Cromwell Lord Protector. 
Walton's Compleat Angler. 

Cowley's Poems. 




1632 
1634 
1637 

1640 
1642 

1644 

1645 

1(548 
1649 

1650 

1651 
1653 

1656 


H 



1 


Born Aug. 9th. 

[Abroad this was the age of 
(a) The great French writers — 

Corneille, 1606-1684. 

Pascal, 1623-1(5(52. 

La Fontaine, 1621-1695. 

Moliere, 1622-1673. 
(6) The great painters — 

Rubens, 1577-1640. 

Vandyck, 1599-1641. 

Velasquez, 1599-1660. 

Rembrandt, 1607-1669.] 

Left Westminster School. 
Entered Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge. 

Father died. 

Received B.A. from Cambridge. 




1631 

1650 
1654 



CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE 



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THE MORE IMPORTANT REFERENCE 
BOOKS 



DRYDEN'S WORKS 

Complete Edition: Scott's, Saintsbury's revision of same 

(1882). 
Poems : Globe Edition by Christie (Macmillan). 

Select Poems by Christie (Clarendon Press). 
Selections in Ward's British Poets, Syle's 3Iilton to Tennyson, 

Hales's Longer English Poems. 
Prose : Essays on Satire and Epic Poetry, in No. 151 of 
CasselVs National Library. 
Essay on Dramatic Poetry by T. Arnold (Macmillan). 



BIOGRAPHIES 

Scott's, in Vol. I. of his edition of Dryden's works. 

Saintsbury's, in English Men of Letters Series. 

Johnson's, in his Lives of the Poets, accessible in volume of 

Selected Lives, edited by Matthew Arnold (Macmillan). 
Dictionary of National Biography. Article by Leslie Stephen. 
Christie's, prefixed to editions of poems (above). 

117 



118 THE MORE IMPORTANT REFERENCE BOOKS 



ESSAYS 

Lowell's, in My Study Windows. 

J. Churton Collins', in Essays and Studies. 

Macaulay's, in Collected Essays. 

HISTORY 

Garnett's Age of Dryden. 

Taine's History of English Literature. 

Gosse's History of Eighteenth- Century Literature. 

Gosse's From Shakespeare to Pope. 

Pancoast's Introduction to English Literature. 



NOTES 



BOOK I 

1. 2. Theseus. One of the most famous and most interesting 
of the legendary heroes of Greece, whose greatest exploit was 
the freeing of Athens from her payment of human tribute to 
the monstrous Cretan Minotaur, which he slew (I., 116). Look 
up further details in some good classical dictionary or my- 
thology, which is indispensable in studying this work. Gay- 
ley's Classic Myths in English Literature (Ginn) is a good 
book. 

Prince. Chief. Chaucer calls him "duk," in the old sense 
of ' ' leader. ' ' 

1. 6. Dryden omits some of Chaucer's picturesque anach- 
ronisms, as, e.g., that this was done by "his wisdom and his 
chivalry." Throughout the poem there is a quaint mingling of 
classical story and mediaeval detail and coloring (e.g. the "tilts 
and turneys " in 22), which reminds one of similar admixtures 
in the naive pictures of the earlier Italian artists. One comes 
to enjoy it. 

1. 7. warrior Queen. Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons. 
Those who have read Shakespeare's Midsummer Night' 's Dream 
will recall her and Theseus. 

119 



120 NOTES 

1. 12. to friend. Cf. Bible English, "he took her to wife." 

1. 13. Note the first triplet. In Dryden's time the triplet was 
indicated by a brace, which served to give notice of a change 
from the couplet form. In some cases, this among them, the 
effect of the triplet is quite happy. The verse has gathered an 
impetus which is carried over into a second strengthening rhyme, 
heightening the effect and more fully rounding out the sentiment. 

1. 14. I pass. The speaker is the knight, whose story this is. 
He is one of the pilgrims from London to Canterbury, who had 
met overnight at the Tabard Inn, Southwark, to be ready to 
start early on the morrow. Mine host of the Tabard has sug- 
gested to his miscellaneous company of wayfarers that they 
shall beguile the time on their journey by telling, each of them, 
two stories, going and returning ; and that he who tells the best 
shall be treated to a supper by the rest on their return to the Inn 
(11. 31-33). The knight's is the first of The Canterbury Tales. 

1. 25. Cf. our colloquialism, "I've a good deal of ground to 
cover." 

1. 29. accidents. Happenings in the sense of the Latin word 
(accidere), from which it is derived. Notice that in Dryden, as 
in Pope, words of Latin derivation more nearly resemble their 
Latin originals in meaning than they do to-day. 

1. 36. mended with a new. Beaten by a better one. 

I. 41. a quire. A company. 

II. 40 and 45. What change from the normal metre ? Do 
you perceive its effectiveness ? 



NOTES 121 

1. 46. his feet embraced. As suppliants always did ; that 
was good etiquette in Homer's time, as you will remember if 
you have read your Pope. 

1. 50. triumph. Triumphal procession or progress. 

weeds. As in our colloquial "widow's weeds." Milton's 
line gives us both words : — 

" In weeds of peace high triumphs hold." — L' Allegro, 120. 

1. 56. swounded. Swooned. One often hears the old form, 
"drownde'd." 

1. 64. The first hexameter line, or Alexandrine. This metre 
was first effectively used by Spenser to round off his stanza with 
a fuller sound. Dryden followed Cowley's lead in introducing 
it into heroic verse. How do you like its effect here and else- 
where in the poem ? 

1. 76. Capaneus. See the story of the Seven against 
Thebes. He had boasted that he would scale the walls of 
Thebes in spite of Jupiter, who struck him with a thunderbolt 
as he made the attempt. 

1. 85. While so unburied the souls of the dead wandered 
homeless. 

1. 94. as. As if. Common in Shakespeare. 

1. 98. crew. Company. Still so used (e.g. of a picnic party) 
in parts of New England. Do you recall Milton's use in 
V Allegro f 

1. 108. The signal that summoned to fight. 



122 NOTES 

1. 109. argent field. White ground ; heraldic terms. The 
white symbolized silver (argent) . 

1. 110. Mars in his chariot (Chaucer has " carte "). 

1. 115. pennon. Scott, learned in such matters, points out 
that Theseus bears both the banner, a large square flag which 
only barons had the right to display, and the pennon, a forked 
streamer, borne by knights. 

1.117. generous rage. Lively excitement. Cf. colloquialism 
which says of a thing that " it's all the rage." 

1. 123. process. Progress. Cf. Tennyson in Locksley Hall : — 
" And the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process of the suns." 
1. 131. I spare. What words are understood ? 

I. 132. howling. This word, used in the Bible, had a dignity 
which has departed from it. 

II. 142-143. Chaucer is not responsible fortius curious plight 
and strange achievement of the knights. This is Dryden's 
padding. 

1. 147. equal arms. Similarly equipped. They were 
" brothers in arms," who had vowed to stand by each other to 
the death. 

1. 150. wound. A good ear-rhyme with "ground" in 
Dryden's time. 

1. 158. softly. Gently. Cf. Shakespeare, e.g. " But soft ! " 

1. 159. known of Creon's line. Known to be related to 
Creon. Hence the punishment. 

1. 169. the morn of cheerful May. May-day morn. 



NOTES 123 

Charming as are the lines that follow, they do not match the 
beautiful, fresh simplicity of Chaucer, whose verse takes on 
bright color wherever he speaks of the springtide. Dryden pads 
not a little : the allusions to Aurora and Philomel are his. For 
11. 197-200 Chaucer has simply : — 

" And as an aungel hevenlyche she song." 

1. 177. In " Merrie England 1 ' it was the custom, on the eve 
of May, for the people to go out in picnic parties into the woods 
and groves to spend the night in revelry and pastimes. They 
returned the next morning with branches and greenery to deck 
their homes. 

1. 204. The passage is not clear. It may mean that the tower 
formed a side or section of the quadrangular castle wall. 

1. 214. hateful. In the primitive sense of full of, or filled 
with, hate. So the word " dreadful " was used. 

1. 215. Spires on the Greek temples ! The combination is 
familiar enough to us. You may recall some New England 
church. 

I. 232. inevitable. What does the word imply ? 

II. 233-236. Again, by expanding, Dryden misses the poig- 
nant, suggestive force of Chaucer : — 

" And therwithal he bleynte [blenched] and cryede, a! 
As though he stongen were unto the herte." 

So simple and yet so effective ! We feel the quick pain in it. 
1. 240. cheer. Countenance, mien. 
1. 242. alone is. Is merely. 



124 NOTES 

1. 245. horoscope. Dryden, who believed in astrology, mul- 
tiplies and nearly always amplifies Chaucer's astrological allu- 
sions. Astrology was based on the belief that a man's fate was 
determined by the position of the stars at his birth. The horo- 
scope was the astrologer's plan of the heavens, especially of the 
most influential planets and luminaries, — the Moon, the Sun, 
Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn (like Mars, an evil 
influence). 

1. 248. under earth. Below the horizon. 

1. 256. insensible. What must the word mean here ? 

1. 258. Actaeon. The unfortunate youth who, having acci- 
dentally sighted Diana while she was bathing, was revengefully 
turned by her into a stag, and was killed by his own dogs. 

1. 260. Juno. Queen of the Gods, consort of Jupiter. 

1. 261. Cyprian queen. Venus, goddess of love and beauty, 
who was chiefly worshipped in her favorite home in Cyprus 
(hence "Cyprian"). The whole passage is Dryden's, and is 
very Drydenesque and un-Chaucerian in style. Line 261 is 
striking, but it is not Chaucer. 

1. 262. confess. Reveal. 

I. 264. habit. Dress. Cf. "riding-habit." 

II. 272-281. Let us see how Chaucer manages the situation : — 

" And with that sighte hire beautee hurte him so, 
That if that Palamon was wounded sore, 
Arcite is hurt as moche as he, or more ; 
And with a sigh he seyde pitously : 
The fresshe beautee sleeth me sodeynly 



NOTES 125 

Of hire that rometh in the yonder place, 
And but I have hire mercy and hire grace, 
That I may seen hire atte leeste weye 
I nam but deed ; ther nis no more to seye." 
After the directness and reality of that, Dry den, with his 
fatal dart, poisonous eyes, and death-dealing glances, won't do 
at all. Even such a line as 

" The beauty I behold has struck me dead " 
is a sorry substitute for Chaucer's 

" The fresshe beautee sleeth me sodeynly." 
1. 296. Here we are face to face with the tragic issue involved 
in the poem ; the severance of one of those passionate friend- 
ships, of which that of Achilles and Patroclus, which you will 
have read of in your Pope's Iliad, is a classic instance. " Such 
comradeship," says a modern writer, who comes beautifully to 
our aid here, "though instances of it are to be found every- 
where, is still especially a classical motive; Chaucer expressing 
the sentiment of it so strongly in an antique tale, that one knows 
not whether the love of both Palamon and Arcite for Emelya, 
or of those two for each other, is the chief er subject of the 
KnighVs Tale — 

'"He cast his eyen upon Emelya, 

And therwithal he bleynte and cried, ah ! 
As that he stongen were unto the herte.' 
What reader does not refer part of the bitterness of that cry to 
the spoiling, already foreseen, of the fair friendship which had 
hitherto made the prison of the two lads sweet with its daily 
offices, though the friendship is saved at last?" — Walter 
Pater, The Renaissance, p. 9. 



126 NOTES 

1. 299. plain. Field of fight, the lists. 

1. 300. appeach. Impeach. 

1. 301. of my council. In my counsel or confidence (see 
also 1. 308). 

I. 306. pretence. Pretensions or claims, as when we speak 
of a claimant to a throne as a pretender. 

1.309. eldership. Priority. Seel. 324, where elder than means 
prior to. In poetry " eld " is often found for " old." 

II. 315-322. What is Arcite's point ? Do you think it well 
taken ? 

I. 320. Mind the emphasis in reading. 

II. 327-336. Drydenesque in style. There is nothing quite so 
simply conclusive as Chaucer's 

" A man moot needes love maugre his heed." 
Spenser expresses the same sentiment : — 

" Ne may love be compelled by maistery " (force). 

11. 329-332. Be sure of the meaning ; try a paraphrase. . By 
vindicate the common cause is probably meant "justify the 
common view that nature sanctions this disregard of merely 
human laws." 

1. 342. ^sop's hounds. The dogs in iEsop's fable. 

1. 346. justle for a grant. Jostle, or vie with, one another 
for a favor. 

I. 351. adventure. Venture. Cf. 1. 399. 

II. 354-357. These are Dryden's heroics. What about 1. 357? 



NOTES 127 

I. 358. There is a certain appositeness in this allusion to the 
bosom friendship of Theseus and Pirithous. Chaucer had in 
mind perhaps Theseus' journey to Hades with his friend to aid 
him in carrying off Proserpina. 

II. 358-378. It is in such paragraphs as these, where no poetic 
heights are to be scaled, that Dryden does his work well. But 
there is a lapse again in the next paragraph. There is more 
feeling and strength in Chaucer. 

1. 380. for his life must pay. Expand this. 
1.382. Finds his dear purchase. Realizes the high price paid 
for freedom. 

I. 383. in prison pent. The meaning is not clear. What 
words seem to be understood ? 

II. 389-390. These lines are virtually Dryden 1 s. What do 
you think of them ? 

1.404. extremest line. Puzzling. Was Dryden hard put for 
a rhyme ? It seems to mean that, although he was in the last 
extremity of love, as loving hopelessly, yet Palamon could at 
least love with the satisfaction of seeing his beloved. 

1.412. care. Meaning here ? Cf. care-worn ; also II., 35. 

I. 416. The negatives nor . . . nor have not been led up to 
by negatives in 11. 414-415. 

II. 420-441. Dryden does well here, although he expands by 
way of illustration. The weakest line is 439. 

1. 427. guilty of their vows. Supposed to be an Englishing 
of Virgil's phrase Voti reus (JEn., V., 237) = when under the 
obligation of a vow. 



128 NOTES 

1. 441. starve. In old and Chaucerian English = die, perish. 
Cf. German sterben. 

I. 444. knew. Change of tense here and in following lines. 
The poem affords several instances. 

II. 445-449. Such emotional demonstrations were natural to 
the ancients as to some southern peoples to-day, and were not 
regarded as unmanly. 

1. 445. outrageous. Note primitive significance of the word 

Note the onomatopoeia ; so in Chaucer : — 
" Such sorwe he maketh that the grete tour 
Resowneth of his yollyng and clamour." 
proud of. Elated at. 
vindicate. Revenge ; cf. vindictive. 
peace. What about the rhyme ? Do you find many 
poor rhymes in the poem ? Beware of overlooking pronuncia- 
tions peculiar to Dryden's age, e.g. joined (= jined) and mind, 
— above, 11. 454-455. 
1. 464. Cf . Chaucer : — 

" Therwith the fyr of jelousye upsterte 
Withinne his breste, and heute him by the herte." 
1. 469. constrains. Meaning here ? 

1. 474. Supply word understood. Cf. poetic expression 
" what time " = at the time when. 
1. 475. his. Whose ? Antecedent ? 

1. 484. estate. State. Think of other words that sometimes 
drop the prefix in this way. 



re 




1. 


447. 


1. 


453. 


1. 


457. 


1. 


459. 



NOTES 129 

1. 485. Meaning ? Paraphrase. 

1.492. Supply after "at," "a traveller," — the common 
object of "shoot at," and "forelays," as the two following 
lines suggest. 

1. 493. forelays. Waylays. 

1. 495. thrids. Commonly used for threads. 

1. 498. Through Saturn. See 11. 246-247. seated. In what 
sense used ? 

1. 499. Cadmus, founder of Thebes, had incurred the enmity 
of Juno and Mars. 

1. 500. quartil. Astrological term, denoting that the two 
planets were at an angle of 90° — an indication of ill in this 
instance, causing the jealousy of the two knights. 

I. 515. but. Except. Is not the play on words a little out 
of place ? 

II. 518-542. Dry den takes great liberties with Chaucer in this 
paragraph. He is off in his heroics, or mock-heroics, again. 
Chaucer is much quieter and stronger. For a striking contrast 
in the style of the two poets, turn, after conning Chaucer, to 
11. 524-531, with all their bathos. 

1. 524. stupid. Meaning here ? 
1. 530. receives. Takes on. 

1. 531. boxen. Box tree. Old adjective in en. Cf. wooden, 
golden, etc. 

1. 535. A charming touch in Chaucer's simple speech : — 
" And if he herde song or instrument 
Then wolde he wepe ..." 



130 NOTES 

One is reminded of Jessica's — 

" I am never merry when I hear sweet music." 

1.540. trim. Dress, ornament. Cf. "trimming," and for a 
survival of the noun, our phrase, " I am in good trim." 

1.541. museful. Meaning? 
1. 542. rage. Madness. 

1. 547. Hermes. Mercury, messenger of the gods, familiar 
to us with his winged heels and cap, and magical rod or staff, in 
the well-known statue of the flying Mercury. As to how he 
succeeded in putting to sleep the hundred-eyed Argus, consult 
the classical dictionary. 

1. 558. This premonition of death is due to Dryden. No 
such sense of ultimate fate hangs upon Chaucer's Arcite. Which 
treatment is the better ? Why ? 

1. 576. conscious. Meaning here ? What should we say 
to-day ? 

I. 578. thick resort. What is the figure ? 

1. 579. Scan this line. 

1. 584. still. Always, as often used in Shakespeare, the 
Bible, Milton. 

1. 587. engines. Any sort of mechanical contrivances. 

1. 590. Philostratus. The name signifies ' ' subdued by love. ' ' 

1. 593. gentle of condition. Chaucer's phrase. Gentle = 
noble, well-bred, as in our word "gentleman." Cf. "gentry." 

1. 601. menial. Doubtless in the Chaucerian sense of house- 
hold attendants or suite. Chaucer says that the king made him 



NOTES 131 

a " squire of his chamber " — note the medievalism. Chaucer 
has a line in this poem in which he speaks of a man — 

" That in his house is of his meyne slain." 
Cf. III., 539. first. Foremost, chief. 

I. 602. entertained. Rewarded. 

II. 607-608. Construe. 

BOOK II 

1. 10. Dryden's line. Again shows his astrological bent. 
It means : When in May the sun had entered that sign of the 
zodiac known as Gemini, the Twins. 

1. 12. Dryden here puts into terms of scholastic philosophy 
Chaucer's simple — 

" As, when a thing is schapen [ordained], it shall be." 

1. 18. sleepy draught. Figure? Draught pronounced in 
Dryden's time to rhyme with " brought." 

1.19. secure. Untroubled. Cf. Milton's "secure delight." 
V Allegro, 91. 

1.22. next. Old meaning of "nearest." 

1. 25. feared the day. Meaning ? 

1. 28. Is any noticeable effect gained by the triplet here ? 

1. 34. style. Pen, from Latin stylus^ used for writing on 
tablets of wax. 

11. 37-62. When it comes to descriptions of nature, we 
naturally suspect town-loving Dryden, who, like Pope, Johnson, 
and indeed most English poets from about 1650-1750, had little 



132 NOTES 

feeling for nature. On the other hand, Chaucer was especially- 
sensitive to the delights of springtide. When he writes of April 
or May, his pulse seems to beat faster. What a poor reflection 
we have here of Chaucer's freshness : — 

" The bisy larke, messager of day, 
Salueth in his song the morwe gray, 
And fyry Phebus ryseth up so brighte 
That al the orient laugheth of the lighte, 
And with his stremes dryeth in the greves 
The silver dropes, hongynge on the leves." 

11. 53-62. Dryden greatly lengthens Arcite's song, in modern 
operatic style. In Chaucer his heart-easing snatch is of three 

lines : — 

" May, with alle thy floures and thy grene, 
Welcome be thou, faire, fresshe May, 
I hope that I som grene gete may." 

Would Arcite be likely to indulge in a lengthy apostrophe ? 
Think of his character and the occasion. 

1. 51. against. Toward. Cf. Milton's — 

" Right against the eastern gate." — U Allegro, 59. 

1. 58. sultry tropic. Tropic of Cancer, which the sun nears 
in June, appearing to move more slowly. 

I. 63. addressed. Ellipsis ; supply words understood. 

II. 73-74. The two "for's" are a little awkward — an 
instance of Dryden's careless workmanship. What does the 
first "for" mean? 

1. 84. Friday. Freya's day. Freya = Norse Venus. Cf 
French, Vendredi — Venus's day. 



NOTES 133 

1. 88. angry Juno, the jealous Queen (92). See I., 499 and 
note. 

1. 93. the Theban city was. Imitative of Virgil's famous 
fuit Ilium (JEn.y II., 325). Was = once was; has ceased to 
be. 

1. 103. That side of heaven. May be astrological in signifi- 
cance, but more probably means those deities who side with 
Juno and Mars. 

1. 112. fries. This word, frequently used by Dryden, was 
not so undignified in his time as it is with us. 

1. 113. my fate pursue. Hurry me toward the fate predes- 
tined for me and my race. Cf. Chaucer : — 

" Ye slen [slay] me with youre eyen, Emelye." 

I. 114. the rest. Whom ? 

II. 115-116. Dryden calmly reproduces two lines from a song 
by Thomas Carew. Scan 115. Note the faulty rhythm, unlike 
Dryden. Becord accented on second syllable. Cf. II., 304. 

11. 119-120. Cf. Chaucer: — 

" And with that word he fell down in a traunce 
A long time." 

1. 120. A flagrant instance of change of tense. 

1. 141. knew. Recognized. In what common phrase does 
this meaning survive ? 

1. 147. The following lines recall sentiments expressed by 
Arcite once before. Has he a less noble character than 
Palamon ? 



134 NOTES 

I. 152. have my faith. Take my troth. 

"Have heer my trouthe." — Chaucer. 

II. 160-161. Chaucer's Arcite does not swagger in any such 
fashion. He has more knightly courtesy, allowing that perhaps 
Palamon may win — 

" And if so be that thou my lady wynne, 
And sle me in this woode there I am inne, 
Thou maist well han thy lady as for me." 

I. 188. generous dullness. Noble coolness, calm self-pos- 
session. 

II. 192-193. Chaucer is more suggestively simple : — 

"Everych [each] of hem help for to armen other 
As friendly as he were his owne brother." 
How many times before had they done this service for each 
other ! It is a grim, yet pathetic situation. 

1. 196. foin. Thrust. These details are Dryden's, as we 
might guess. So, too, 11. 206-209. 
1. 224. jolly. Joyful. Cf. Milton's 

" While the jolly hours lead on propitious May." 

— Sorinet to the Nightingale. 
1. 232. Diana. 

1. 235. laund. Lawn, open space or bushy plain surrounded 
by woods. 

1.237. forth-right. Straightway, " right away. " 

1. 241. underneath the sun. Chaucer's phrase : a realistic 
touch. Where was the sun ? 

1. 245. strook. Old past tense of " strike. 1 ' 



NOTES 135 

1. 251. Meaning? 

1. 258. listed field. Field marked out and enclosed (listed) 
for combat. Cf. Shakespeare's 

" Rather than so, come fate into the list, 

And champion me." — Macbeth, III., i., 71. 

1. 261. Is Palamon more fitly the spokesman than Arcite ? 
1. 292. Ellipsis ; supply words understood. 
1. 309. Dryden expands in the next two paragraphs. Cf. 
especially Chaucer's three lines for Dryden's, 309-314 : — 

" The queen anon for verray wommanhede 
Gan for to wepe, and so dede Emelye, 
And alle the ladies in the compainye." 

Note the Drydenesque pompousness in 1. 313. 

1. 318. mastership. Masterpiece. 

1. 338. he freed. Who ? Whom ? Change of subject. 

1. 340. under. Down, as in some compounds. 

1. 350. Cf. Chaucer: — 

" The god of love, a ! benedicite, 
How mighty and how grete a lord is he I " 
Again, what delightful simplicity ! 

1. 387. accord. Understanding, agreement. 
1. 408. every sign. Twelve signs of the zodiac = a year. 
Chaucer says, "This day fyfty wykes." 
1. 414. bars. Barriers, bounds, lists. 

1. 415. recreant. Confess defeat, generally implying cow- 
ardice, as in Shakespeare's use and Scott's. 



136 NOTES 

1. 430. Note the peculiarity in this line — the ending of a sen- 
tence in the middle of the line. This interferes with the swing 
and speed of the couplet. Dryden avoided this effect. Note 
how few the instances are. Cf. Pope's versification in his 
translation of the Iliad. 

1. 435. Here is obviously one of the natural divisions of the 
story that calls for the beginning of a new book. What are 
the other natural divisions ? 

1. 445. degrees. Steps. Chaucer's word ; comes through 
French from Latin, gradus. Cf. grade, gradually. 

1. 448. Note how detailed and sumptuous the following 
descriptions are. Chaucer seemed to delight in the richness, 
the color, and magnificence of all he describes. Remember that 
in Chaucer's time men were emerging from the gloom and 
asceticism of the Middle Ages, and opening their eyes in rapture 
to the beauty of the world. What a childlike wonder and joy 
Chaucer shows ! 

1. '460. An altar. Chaucer adds an oratory, or small chapel 
— an interesting combination, so suggestive as the second is of 
cathedrals and Christian piety. The next line is Dry den's. 

1. 462. dome. Building = Latin domns. So used in Pope 
and Goldsmith. 

" The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign. 

— Deserted Village, 319. 

1. 474. The student who has followed Chaucer's narrative 
will by this time detect such un-Chaucerian touches as we get 
in this line, in 1. 476, and elsewhere in this passage. How 
much elaborated is Chaucer's simple — 



NOTES 137 

"The broken slepes, and the sykes [sighs] colde ; 
The sacred teeres, and the waymentynge [wailing] 
The fyry strokes, and the desirynge 
That loves servauntz in this lyf enduren." 

1. 483. Sigils. Seals engraved with planetary signs. 

1. 487. suffused. With color, discolored. Chaucer's figure 
of jealousy is very different : — 

" That werede of yelwe guides [marigolds] a gerland." 
Do you think that Dryden's jaundiced woman is better ? 

1. 489. A cuckow is a bird of traditionally bad reputation, 
being above all things a deceiver. The way in which she deceives 
other birds by substituting her own for their eggs in their nests, 
is well known. 

1. 498. Idalian mount. In Cyprus, sacred to Venus. 
Citheron. Range of mountains south of Thebes, sacred to the 
gods. Spelt differently in III., 145. Chaucer seems to have 
had Cythcera in mind, the Ionian island sacred to Venus. 

1. 502. Narcissus. The beautiful youth who loved, until he 
pined away, his own image reflected in a pool. 

1. 503. Samson and Solomon. Note this strange admixture 
of Scriptural names. Chaucer has Hercules instead of Samson. 
Samson's case, however, is equally pertinent, and makes Solo- 
mon a less solitary patch of glaring, foreign color. 

1. 505. Medea, who by her sorcery helped Jason on the 
Argonautic Expedition. Circe. Recall Ulysses' visit to her in 
the Odyssey. 

1. 519. turtles. Turtle-doves, sacred to Venus. Chaucer 



138 NOTES 

has "dowves." buxom. Generally means complaisant, obedi- 
ent ; here has sense of yielding. Cf. Milton's 

" So buxom, blithe, and debonair." — U Allegro, 24. 

1. 520. an infant Love. Chaucer says her son, Cupid. 

1. 526. This temple. Pictured on the wall. 

I. 527. the first in Thrace. The first or original temple that 
stood in Thrace — one of the wildest, bleakest regions of 
Greece. 

II. 528-541. Note the expressiveness of this little landscape. 
Chaucer is more vividly concise, after the manner of the great- 
est masters. Note the feeling, the onomatopoetic effect, in his 
lines picturing the forest ; sight and sound combining : — 

" With knotty, knarry [gnarled], barreyne trees olde 
Of stubbes sharpe and hidous to byholde, 

In which ther ran a swymbel [moaning] in a swough [wind-storm] 
As though a storm schulde bersten every bough." 

1. 536. knares. Gnarls. See the first of Chaucer's lines 
above. 

1. 544. bent. Sense here ? 

1. 545. armipotent. Dissect for the meaning. 

1. 549. Blind. The context shows the meaning in this as in 
so many of the instances in which familiar words are somewhat 
strangely used. Cf. "a blind alley." 

1. 552. Note the suggestive touch — the cold, northern light. 
Cf . Chaucer : — 

" The northern light in at the dores shoon ; 
For wyndowe on the wal ne was ther noon." 



NOTES 139 

The lines that follow in Chaucer convey in a wonderfully graphic 
way the sense of bare, irresistible strength. 

I. 558. tun. Huge cask, denoting the girth of the pillars. 

II. 565-566. No better instance can be found of Dry den's 
unfortunate weakening of Chaucer's strongest lines. How 
incomparably finer is Chaucer's 

" The smylere [smiling villain] with the knyf under the cloke." 
Cf . also Chaucer's version of 11. 568-570 : — 

"Contek, with bloody knyf and sharpe manace." 

1. 576. yet. Meaning ? 

1.589. boars. In Chaucer, "bears." Which is better? 
Why? 

1. 590. overlaid. Smothered. 

1. 592. Mars his nature. This was the mistaken way in 
which, for a time, the possessive case was expressed, especially 
with words ending in "s." Our possessive ending, with an 
apostrophe, is not a contraction of " his," but a survival of an 
old inflected genitive in "es." 

1. 600. conquest. Chaucer reverts to personification = the 
blood-stained victor. Why the suspended sword in 1. 602 ? 

1. 604. Mars his ides. On the ides of March, when Caesar was 
assassinated. Recall the facts in Shakespeare's Julius Ccesar. 

1. 607. Antony. Mark Antony, whose love for Cleopatra led 
to his undoing. 

1. 608. fane. Temple ; Latin fanum. 

1. 611. the red star. The planet Mars. 



140 NOTES 

1. 614. geomantic figures. Figures outlined in dots on the 
ground, or, at a later time, on paper ; geomancy being the art 
of divination by means of such dotted figures. The two figures 
so dotted in stars on the painting above Mars' s head are named 
by Chaucer Puella (the maid) and Rubens (the warrior). The 
next line is Dryden's addition. It means that one figure, the 
warrior, was astrologically important when Mars moved "di- 
rect," i.e. from east to west, or with the signs of the zodiac ; 
the other, the maid, when Mars's motion was backward. 

1. 616. Review for a moment this gallery of scenes of disaster 
and horror, and figures of baseness and crime connected with 
"mighty Mars the red," to realize the harrowing, chilling 
power of the passage. Note also that it is preceded and fol- 
lowed by the pleasing picturings connected with the temples of 
Venus and Diana. 

1.621. Cynthia. Diana. Why so called ? And why silver 
Cynthia ? 

1. 623. Calisto. One of Diana's nymphs. Her fate is more 
clearly told by Chaucer : — 

" Whan that Dyane agreved was with here, 
Was turned from a womman to a here, 
And after was she maad the loode-sterre." 

manifest of shame. A Latinism, easily deciphered. 

1. 625. Her son. Areas, who was appropriately placed in the 
Little Bear. 

1. 626. cold circle. Arctic circle, within which are both 
constellations. 



NOTES 141 

1. 627. Actaeon. See I., 258. 

1. 630. mistaken master. Figure ? Convert it. 

I. 631. Peneian Daphne. The nymph, daughter of the river- 
god Peneus, who, when pursued by enamoured Apollo, was 
changed by Diana into a laurel-tree, thereafter sacred to the 
sun-god. 

1.633. Meaning? Paraphrase it. The word "expressed" 
has been so used before. 

II. 634-638. The chief incidents connected with the hunting 
of the fierce boar sent by Diana to ravage Calydon, to punish 
King CEneus for a slight. CEnides, the king's son, slew the 
beast, and presented his envied prize to the fleet huntress Ata- 
lanta, who had fascinated him by her beauty. In a contest over 
the prize, CEnides slew his mother's brothers, hence "Diana's 
vengeance," wrought out through his " murdress mother," who 
burned a log upon which his life depended, and he was "con- 
sumed " as it wasted away. 

I. 639. the Volscian queen. Camilla, who led the Volscians 
against iEneas. The soldier ("traitor") who slew her was 
avenged by Diana. 

II. 643-652. Is this delightful image of the huntress-queen 
clear in the mind ? It will doubtless recall a well-known statue ; 
but here we must add color, the "gaudy green " of her hunting 
dress. 

1. 644. beagles. Hunting dogs. 

1. 652. The dark dominions. The underworld, Hades, where 
she ruled for part of the year. 



142 NOTES 

1. 654. Lucina. Roman name for Diana, as goddess of 

childbirth = light-bringer. 

1. 658. mend. Probably "make amends for." 
11.661-662. Dryden's own sly "tag," a bid for royal 
recompense. 

I. 663. Scan. 

BOOK III 

Here we have all the pomp and circumstance of a great gala 
of the age of chivalry — the splendid procession of the flower of 
knighthood, dukes, earls, and kings, all 

" — gadred in this noble companye 
For love and for encrees of chivalrye." 
Note the sequence of events. After the Sunday pageant, the 
magnificent entertainment of Theseus — the minstrelsy, the ser- 
vice at the feast, the dancing in the hall, where the hawks are 
perched above and the hounds lie about the floor — follows 
the silence of midnight and of the later dawning, when we hear 
the impassioned prayers of the two heroes and of Emily ; and 
then come the bustle and clatter of preparation on the morn of 
May ; the progress of the contesting bands to the scene of con- 
flict ; and at last the clash of arms and the dust of the onset. 
We cannot but admire the admirable evolution of the story, 
the skilful ordering of the details, the tactful setting of the cen- 
tral figures. 

II. 7-8. Supply the ellipses. 

11. 9-10. A little misleading through the use of "beside " for 
"besides," and the expansion of the subject. Paraphrase. 



NOTES 143 

11. 16-21. The knight who tells the story cannot repress his 
enthusiasm and patriotism. Dryden outdoes Chaucer here. 

11. 20-21. The meaning is a little difficult. Try a paraphrase. 

1. 23. Approved. Meaning ? Cf . Shakespeare : — 

" In religion 
What damned error but some sober brow 
Will bless it and approve it with a text? " 

— Merchant of Venice, III., ii., 79. 
1. 24. several. Different, distinctive. Originally it meant 
separate, and was used in the singular. Cf. Milton : — 

" Which he, to grace his tributary gods, 
By course commits to several government." 

— Comus, 24-25. 

1. 27. stubborn. In its primitive sense of tough and resisting 
as a stub. 

1. 28. juppon. French jupon, a short, close-fitting coat. 

1. 31. Pruce. Prussia. Of course Theseus knew nothing of 
Prussia, but Chaucer is using the word for descriptive purposes, 
and explains and protects himself by saying, after Solomon : — 

"There nys [is not] no newe gyse [fashion], that it nas [was not 
once] old." 

1. 35. jambeux. French for leg-armor. The costuming is 
frankly mediaeval. 

1. 39. Lycurgus. Not, of course, the Spartan lawgiver. 
1. 43. a lion. Chaucer says a griffin ; Emetrius is " as a lyon." 
1. 57. pards. Leopards. Cf. Shakespeare's "bearded like 
the pard." — As You Like It, II., vii., 150. 



144 NOTES 

11. 63-89. Note how skilfully contrasted with Lycurgus. 
Each is forcibly realized ; each a study of personality, and no 
mere decorated dummy. 

1.68. orient. Shining, lustrous. Cf. Milton: — 

" His orient liquor in a crystal glass." — Comas, 65. 
11. 79-81. This is Dryden on stilts again. Line 81 is especially 
un-Chaucerian. 

11.82-85. Cf. Chaucer: — 

" Of fyve and twenty yeer his age I caste. 
His berd was wel bygonue for to sprynge ; 
His voys was as a trumpe thundery nge." 

1.89. reclaimed. Tamed. Cf. " reclaimed from savagery," 
a common phrase. 

1. 96. increase. Furtherance, growth, glorification. 

1. 100. honest. In the Latin sense of honestus = noble, 
splendid. 

1. 101. the war. Warriors. Cf. somewhat similar use of 
"the camp." 

1. 103. prime. Early, the first quarter of the day. Cf. the 
phrase, "the first of the week " = early in the week. In 
Shakespeare and elsewhere the prime = the spring. 

I. 104. Scan. Some versions have "pots" for "posts." 

II. 111-118. Dryden cuts a good deal here, and we lose a 
pretty piece of local color. Chaucer tells of : — 

" The myustralcye, the servyce at the feste, 
The grete gyftes to the nioste and leste, 
The riche array of Theseus paleys [palace] , 
Ne who sat first ne last upon the deys, 



NOTES 145 

What ladyes fayrest ben or best daunsynge, 
Or which of hem can dannce best and singe, 
Ne who most felyngly speketh of love ; 
What haukes sitten on the perche above, 
What houndes liggen on the flour adoun." 

11. 119-123. Dryden is again too wordy: — 

" The Sonday night, or day bigan to springe, 
When Palamon the larke herde synge, 
Although it were not day by houres two, 
Yit sang the larke, and Palamon also." 

Note the beautiful brevity and suggestiveness of the last line. 

1. 124. preventing. In primitive Latin sense of going before, 
anticipating. Collate instances in Shakespeare, Milton, and the 
Bible. 

I. 129. genial. Life-giving, fruitful ; as when we speak of 
the "genial rays of the sun." 

II. 130-144. This pretty flattery is Dryden's. Chaucer's 
Palamon is too full of his own hopes and fears to indulge in 
such a flight. Are they dramatically appropriate ? — that is the 
first question to be asked concerning Dryden's decorative addi- 
tions. Chaucer's instinct is so much finer than Dryden's, in 
spite of the latter's long years of dramatic activity. 

1. 146. Increase. Offspring, progeny. 

I. 147. Adonis. The beautiful youth whom Venus loved in 
vain. 

II. 159-160. What is the significance of this avowal of Pala- 
mon's ? Has he a premonition that he cannot win by force of 
arms? 



146 NOTES 

I. 168. Dryden's astrology again. Each of the five planets 
— Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Sol, Venus — was, in the Ptolemaic 
system, placed in a sphere or orb. The orb of Venus was 
properly the third. 

1.172. the Sisters. The Fates; "the Sisters Three" in 
Shakespeare — where ? 

II. 173-174. Isn't this something like anticlimax ? 

11. 177-178. Note how much is lost when Dryden departs 
from Chaucer's definiteness and concreteness — the life and 
soul of poetry — as he frequently does : — 

" Then paye I the [thee] to-morwe with a spere 
That Arcita me thurgh the herte bere." 

11. 187-188. Paraphrase. 

1. 189. What artistic effect is gained by thus interposing 
Emily's speech between those of the heroes ? 

1. 190. A very Chaucerian line, exactly reproduced ; but it 
needs the Chaucerian context if one is to get its fine flavor. 
The charm of such simple writing defies analysis. One feels it, 
or one does not. 

1. 200. Uncouth. Perhaps unknown, although it suggests 
also ill-mannered, boorish, indelicate. Cf. Milton's 

" Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills." 

— Lycidas, 186. 

1. 207. Chaucer presents us with no such neglectful maid ; 
on the contrary, her hair was "kempt," but " all untressed." 

1. 208. mastless. Without acorns or mast. 



NOTES 147 

1.210. either. In old sense of "both." Cf. phrase "on 
either hand." 

1. 212. Statius. A Roman poet ; wrote the Thebais, an 
epic about Thebes. 

1. 221. Niobe. She who boasted that, having fourteen chil- 
dren, she was superior to the goddess Latona, who had only two. 
Latona thereupon commanded these two, Apollo and Diana, to 
kill Niobe's family, which they did with arrows. 

1. 222. Pope has a line much like this which shows how 
acceptable such a periphrasis as " the feathered deaths" was to 
the taste of the age. 

" And hissing fly the feather'd fates below." — Trans., Iliad, I., 68. 

1. 228. Chaucer's Emily expresses no such modern convic- 
tions. She is old-fashioned in such matters. 

1. 229. Means obsequious enough as a lover [to serve = to 
love, in the language of chivalry. See I., 396, etc.], but over- 
bearing as a mate. 

1. 233. What are the three shapes she assumes ? 

1. 243. Emily's emotion is indicated by Chaucer by the two 
lines : — 

" Bihold, goddesse of clere chastite 
The bittre teeres that on my cheekes fall." 

1. 254. The two flames symbolize the two heroes, of course. 
Which is which ? Why ? Chaucer is simpler and clearer. 

1. 269. The rest. Ellipsis ; the meaning is that in other 
respects she appeared as. 



148 NOTES 

1. 277. A comma after " man " will give a clew to the sense. 
Jove, the thunderer, alone knows the issue. 

1. 284. no more. Recall her previous declaration of sisterhood. 

I. 290. The next hour that was ruled by Mars, who ruled in 
turn with the other seven planets, the "heptarchy of power." 

II. 296, 306. Dryden's Arcite, like his Palamon, is wordy in 
his address. His whole speech is longer by about twelve lines 
in Dryden than in Chaucer. Can you guess at some of Dry- 
den's elaborations ? 

1. 314. a lover. When in love with Venus. 
1. 329. for. For the sake of, that is, remembering the fire 
that you once felt. 

Generous. Cf. previous usage. 

1. 338. atchievements. Armorial bearings. 

I. 345. A common enough vow in early times, especially 
in the East. Cf. the familiar oath, "by my beard," met in 
Shakespeare. 

II. 349-350. This contrasts with Palamon's declaration (III., 
159-160). Arcite has a more warrior-like desire for victory; 
but what sort of lover is he, after all ? Well might Jove say 
(III., 278) that Emily should be wed by him who loved her best. 
Is there any other evidence to bear this out ? 

1. 351. the close. Enclosed place. Cf. garden-close, cathe- 
dral-close. 

1. 352. Note the onomatopoetic effect in this and the follow- 
ing lines. 

1. 363. Paraphrase. 



NOTES 149 

1. 366. Half sunk. The sense is obvious ; but find a synonym. 
Cf. the phrase, "his voice sank." What is the significance of 
the word of victory being thus "half sunk and half pro- 
nounced" ? 

1. 373. his wife. Juno, suspicious and shrewish at times, 
as she had every reason for being. 

I. 375. Saturn. Father of Jupiter, and dethroned by him. 
He was regarded as a mischief-maker and producer of strife, 
and so on the principle of setting a thief to catch a thief, he 
knew how to compose a quarrel, as here. 

II. 381-382. Cf. Chaucer. Dryden, you will note, has, 
through misunderstanding, missed the point of Chaucer's 
adage : — 

" As soth [truly] is sayd, eelde [old age] hath gret avantage, 
In eelde is both wisdom and usage ; 

Men may the olde at-reune [outstrip], but nat at-rede [outwit in 
counsel]." 

1. 383. The astrological detail is Dryden's, and need scarcely 
be regarded, especially as there is a general confusion of planets 
with deities, of astrology and mythology. When "trined," i.e. 
120° apart, two planets influenced for good ; when "joined," 
so as to obscure, as in this case, they portended ill. Hence 
Saturn's disposition to aid Venus and get the better of Mars. 

1. 387. stint. Stop. 

1. 391. course. Orbit; the largest of all the then known 
planets' courses. 

1. 393. The allusion here and in what follows is to the 
changing influence of the planets according to the signs of 



150 NOTES 

the zodiac through which they move, as these signs were, in 
their special relations to the four elements, either watery, earthy, 
fiery, or airy ("etherial"). 

1. 416. complexions. Temperaments ; Chaucer's word. It 
is used in the same sense by Shakespeare: Hamlet, I., iv., 27. 

1. 420. Chronos. Cronos, Greek name for Saturn. 

I. 421. effect. Outcome, issue, of the arrangement. 

II. 433-436. Chaucer introduces no such Homeric participa- 
tion of the gods. What do you say of it ? 

1. 437. generous. High-spirited, as being good-blooded or 
well-born. Cf. II., 188. 

I. 439. harness. Any kind of armor. 

II. 439-440. Scan, and note the peculiar effects secured. 
1. 446. morions. Open helmets. 

1. 447. Scan. What obsolete pronunciation is brought out ? 

1. 450. advance. Uplift. Cf . Shakespeare : — 
" The fringed curtain of thine eye advance." — Tempest, I., ii., 407. 

1. 458. Dryden is more lengthy, more detailed, than Chaucer 
in this description from 1. 430. His narrative has more speed. 

1. 469. Identify the "fair freckled king" and the "black 
monarch" (472). 

1. 483. cap-a-pe. From head to foot ; French, cap-a-pied. 

1. 491. king-at-arms. In Chaucer, a herald; it is here the 
chief herald. 

1.493. gentle kind. " Gentlefolk," gentry. 



NOTES 151 

1. 496. rebate. Moderate, mitigate. 

1. 499. short of. An idiom still often used, and would be 
clearer here if Dryden had said "short of death," i.e. not 
beyond the point of it. 

I. 505. Construe thus : nor thrust at close quarters with the 
sharp ("biting") point of the short sword, — which Chaucer 
says that one must not even carry, — but strike at arm's length, 
or at a distance. 

II. 506-507. Only one charge with the sharp ashen spear is 
allowed. 

I. 510. at mischief. "He that is at meschief " (Chaucer), 
that is, worsted, and at his opponent's mercy. At one time 
people spoke of bonchief and mischief, meaning good and ill 
fortune. 

II. 512-515. Somewhat elliptical. Be sure you understand 
the syntax. 

1. 516. dooms. Meaning? Cf. the colloquialism "he is 
doomed to die." 

1. 521. provident. As wishing to avoid waste ; like a 
provident housewife. Cf. prudent, which is a contraction of 
provident. 

1. 529. How read? Scan. The reckless extravagance of 
the carpeting is Dryden's. 

1. 539. many. Attendants or retinue. See note on I., 601. 

1. 549. This little tag of Dryden's means that winds make 
less noise on land than on sea ! 

1. 553. divides the plain. By occupying his half of the field. 



152 NOTES 

1. 556. self. Chaucer's word = same or very, as in self -same. 
You have doubtless met it in the Merchant of Venice. 

1. 563. sized. "Of a size," as we sometimes say; well- 
matched. 

1.570. tale. Count, tally; as in Milton's "And every 
shepherd tells his tale," and in Psalm xc. 9. 

1. 583. An effective line. See that you get the effect in 
reading. The description generally abounds in striking alliter- 
ations and other onomatopoetic effects. Note how rapidly the 
verse moves at times. 

Darkling. A favorite word with the poets. Cf. Shake- 
speare's 

" O, wilt thou darkling leave me ? Do not so." 

— Midsummer Night's Dream, II., ii., 86. 

1. 597. Hauberks. Coats of chain armor. Note the effect of 
the alliterative "h's." How they suggest the hacking ! 

1. 611. By fits. At certain times. Chaucer says that Theseus 
ordered them to stop for refreshment. 

1. 613. the rivals. The two heroes. 

1. 614. ward. Guard. This extraordinary, unsoldier-like for- 
getfulness is Dryden's. Down to 1. 629 Dryden deals very 
freely with Chaucer. 

1. 625. challenges the food. Figure ? 

1. 635. overlaid. Overwhelmed. 

I. 640. he . . . him. Who ? whom ? 
1.650. hateful. Cf. I., 214. 

II. 660-676. Dryden pads in very bad taste. He invents 



NOTES 153 

Mars's ill-mannered insults and the sardonic laughter of the 
gods. Explain how these are incongruous. Such phrases as 
"the standing army of the sky," "distilled her tears," "the 
blustering fool," especially grate upon the ear. 

I. 660. own. Meaning ? 

II. 663-664. When Jove overthrew his father Saturn, one of 
the Titans, a race of mighty descendants of heaven and earth. 

1. 685. endlong. Along the lists to the end. 

1. 698. with his feet. We should rather say, " in his feet," 
or "his feet quivered." 

1. 707. entranced. In a trance or swoon. 

1. 714. compelled. In Latin sense of driven or gathered 
together. 

I. 722. sovereign draughts. An unusual use of " sovereign " 
in the sense of irresistible, subduing. 

II. 728-736. These sententious aphoristic lines, like 740, etc., 
are, as you will doubtless feel by this time, Dryden's. Chaucer 
keeps to his story, and does not sermonize. 

11. 761-763. Chaucer is more picturesque : — 
" And certynly ther [where] nature will not wirche [work] 
Farwel phisik ; go ber [bear] the man to chirche." 
1. 762. crazy. Injured, flawed. Cf. Shakespeare's 
"Thy crazed title to my certain right." 

— Midsummer Night's Dream, I., i., 91. 
1.766. hardly. With difficulty. Cf. Bible usage :" A rich 
man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven." — Matt. 
xix. 23. 



154 NOTES 

1. 766. against right. Chaucer does not thus declare against 
Arcite ; but what passages support Dryden's view ? 

1. 779. officious. Tendering his offices or services ; so used 
elsewhere by Dry den, as in the opening line of his stanzas on 
Cromwell. 

I. 780. Turn to Chaucer, whose directness and touching 
simplicity Dryden misses as usual. 

II. 789-793. These lines, reminiscent of Shakespeare, may be 
compared with Chaucer : — 

" What is this world ? What asken men to have ? 
Now with his love, now in his colde grave 
Allone withouten eny compainye." 

11. 800-816. Dryden's addition, to support his championship 
of Palamon. Chaucer's Arcite does not see that he has acted 
meanly. Which is the better view ? Whose Arcite is the more 
admirable ? 

I. 804. doubt. Fear. 

II. 820-821. This last loyalty to Palamon, this reviving spark 
of the old affection, is, of course, the touching feature of this 
death scene. It is more striking in Chaucer because Arcite's 
speech is much shorter — about half the length of Dryden's. 

1. 831. below. Seizing his feet first. 

1. 837. Chaucer concludes : — 

" But on his lady yit he caste his eye 
His laste word was, ' Mercy, Emelye.' " 

1.841. demonstrative. Conclusive. In what follows Dryden 
again mounts the pulpit on his own account. 



NOTES 155 

I. 848. Chaucer says that Emily shrieked and Palamon 
howled. 

1. 864. but Hector was not then. This was before the time of 
Hector, the hero of the Trojan War on the Trojan side. This 
is Dryden's addition ; does anything in the poem warrant it ? 

1. 874. Still. Always, as before in this poem. Where ? 

1. 878. sincere. In the Latin sense of unmixed. 

1. 892. conscious laund. The place that had known them 
before, with the suggestion that it was aware of the honor done 
to it. " Laund " has been used before. 

1. 899. Sere. Dry, as in Milton's " ivy never sere." — Lyci- 
das, 2. 

doddered. Infirm with age. 

1. 901. How read this to get the full effect ? Scan thus : — 

j£. _£. W — w w w 

Fell, split | and lay | the fu | el in | a row | 

1. 902. Vulcanian. Explain the appropriateness of the epithet. 

1. 907. mixed with myrtle. Chaucer's wreath is of laurel 
only. The myrtle suggests a tribute to Venus, since, after all, 
Arcite was Love's servant unto death. 

1.911. Menaced. Used intransitively. 

1. 927. and one his shield. Syntax ? 

1. 934. master-street. Chaucer's phrase. In what other 
words is "master" so compounded? 

1. 955. mourner-yew. As such, it stands in many an English 
churchyard. Cf. Gray's 
" Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade " (Elegy, 13) 



156 NOTES 

and Tennyson's 

" Old yew, which graspest at the stones 
That name the underlying dead." 

— In Memoriam, II., 1. 

1. 956. swimming alder. As growing in moist places or by 
streams. 

1. 960. With. As well as. The passage is confused, and 
one doubts whether Dryden really wrote "ranked" in 1. 959. 
Chaucer is clear enough : — 

" How they weren feld [felled] shall nat be toold for me ; 
Ne hou the goddes ronnen up and doun, 
Disheryt of here [their] habitacioun, 
In whiche they woneden [dwelt] in reste and pees, 
Nymphes, Faunes, and Amadriades." 

1. 963. seats. Places, homes. Cf. Goldsmith's 

" Seats of my youth, when every sport could please." 

— Deserted Village, 6. 

1. 992. wakes. Vigils for the dead, which are still held in 
Ireland. The word is akin to "watch" and "waits." Cf. 
" Christmas waits." 

1. 995. gave or took. In what sense ? 

1. 1013. the event. The issue, outcome. 

1. 1018. Shall we call this disquisition of the philosophic 
Theseus a "tedious homily of love," or not? Most readers 
will be inclined to skip it in their anxiety to know whether what 
they already suspect really happens, to conclude this tale of 
strife. It certainly does arrest the progress of the story. And 



NOTES 157 

yet its introduction here might be defended on some grounds. 
It exhibits Chaucer's graver interest in life. He draws his 
thought largely from the writings of Boetius, a scholar and 
thinker at the court of Theodoric, whose writings Chaucer 
translated. Dryden's rendering is very free and long-drawn- 
out ; hut he is a master in this kind of sermonic writing. 

1. 1021. jarring seeds. Warring elements in chaos; before 
they were, as he goes on to say, reduced to harmony by Love. 
Cf. the first stanza of Dryden's Song for St. Cecilia's Day. 

1.1027. Supply, before "how long," some such word as 
"determining." 

1.1030. for will is free. This contradicts the fatalism which 
runs through the poem. 

I. 1033. suborn. Procure. 

II. 1036-1037. The couplet is echoed in Pope's famous lines : — 

" All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul." 

— Essay on Man, 267, 268. 

1. 1045. Corrupts. Used intransitively = becomes corrupted. 

1. 1046. virtue. In the sense of efficacy or power. Cf. 
Bible usage : " For there went virtue out of him, and he healed 
them all." — Luke vi. 19. 

1. 1047. makes another mass. By new combinations. 

1. 1049. by succession. In its turn ; for a term. 

1. 1057. periods. As in Shakespeare = conclusion, end. 



158 NOTES 

1. 1071. three souls. It was held that man had three souls: 
the vegetive (1. 1070), or vegetal, which he shares with all 
living things ; the sensitive, or animal, by which he feels, and 
which he shares with animals ; and the rational, by which he 
reasons, and which is proper to man alone. As 1. 1070 indicates, 
these develop one after another. 

1. 1072. Some thus. Supply the ellipsis. 

1. 1079. This familiar line is in Chaucer, who got it from 
St. Jerome. 

1. 1093. joy us. The use of "joy" as a verb, meaning to 
gladden, is often met with in Shakespeare. Recall Brutus's 

" My heart doth joy that yet in all my life 
I found no man but he was true to me." 

1. 1096. Is there a call for a new paragraph here ? Dryden 
has been dragging out Chaucer's sermon or "series," as he calls 
it, unnecessarily. 

1.1106. good vicissitude of joy. Meaning? 

There are one or two characteristic passages in Chaucer's 
conclusion, which may well be noticed : thus in the couplet, — 

" And thus with alle blisse and melodye 
Hath Palamon y-wedded Emelye," — 

there is a charming suggestiveness in the use of the word 
"melodye." The concluding lines, too, have a Chaucerian 
savor that is enjoyable : — 

" For now is Palamon in alle wele, 
Lyvynge in bliss, in richesse, and in heele ; 



NOTES 159 

And Emelye hym loveth so tendrely, 
, And he hire servyth al-so gentilly, 
That nevere was ther no word hem hitwene 
Of jalousie or any oother tene. 

Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye, 
And God save al this faire compaigne. Amen." 

The last couplet recalls the knight and his fellow-pilgrims. He 
makes his polite bow. 



INDEX TO NOTES 



accidents, 120. 

accord, 135. 

achievements, 148. 

Actseon, 124, 141. 

Adonis, 145. 

advance, 150. 

adventure, 126. 

iEsop, 126. 

against, 132. 

Alexandrine (meter), 121. 

alone, 123. 

Antony, 139. 

appeach, 126. 

approved, 143. 

argent field, 122. 

armipotent, 138. 

as, 121. 

Astrology, 124, 140, 146, 149. 

Atalanta, 141. 

at mischief, 151. 

bars, 135. 
beagles, 141. 

beard, swearing by the, 148. 
below, 155. 

Bible cited, 120, 122, 130, 145, 152, 
157. 



blind, 138. 

boxen, 129. 

but, 129. 

but Hector was not then, 155. 

buxom, 138. 

by fits, 152. 

by succession, 157. 

Cadmus, 129. 

Capaneus, 121. 

cap-a-pe, 150. 

Calisto, 140. 

care, 127. 

challenges the food, 152. 

Chaucer : compared with Dry- 
den, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 128, 
129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 
136, 138, 139, 144, 145, 146, 149, 
150, 153, 154, 156. 

Chaucer: handling of nature, 
131, 138; childlike joy, 136; 
graphic power, 140 ; skill in 
story-telling, 142 ; in character- 
drawing, 144; dramatic in- 
stinct, 145 ; simplicity, 146 ; 
graver philosophic interest in 
life, 157. 



161 



162 



INDEX TO NOTES 



cheer, 123. 
dullness, 134. 
Chronos, 150. 
Circe, 137. 
Citheron, 137. 
close, a, 148. 
cold circle, 140. 
compelled, 153. 
complexions, 150. 
confess, 124. 
conscious, 130. 
conscious laund, 155. 
constrains, 128. 
corrupts, 157. 
council, 126. 
course, 149. 
crazy, 153. 
crew, 121. 
cuckow, 137. 
Cynthia, 140. 
Cyprian queen, 124. 

Daphne, 141. 
dark dominions, 141. 
darkling, 152. 
degrees, 136. 
demonstrative', 154. 
Diana, 141. 
divides the plain, 151. 
doddered, 155. 
dome, 136. 
dooms, 151. 
doubt, 154. 

Dryden : his use of triplet, 120 ; 
meaning of some words of 



Latin origin in, 120; use of 
hexameter, 121 ; belief in as- 
trology, 124, 131, 146, 149; 
rhymes, 128. Characteristic 
touches, 126 (1. 354) , 127 (1. 358, 
384, 420) , 129(1. 518) , 131 (1. 12) , 
135 (1. 313), 142 (1. 661), 144 
(1. 79), 148 (1. 296), 150 (1. 458), 
152 (1. 660), 153 (1. 728), 154 
(1.800,820), 157 (1.1018). 

effect, 150. 
either, 147. 
eldership, 126. 
endlong, 153. 
engines, 130. 
entertained, 130. 
entranced, 153. 
equal arms, 122. 
estate, 128. 
event, 156. 

faith, have my, 134. 

fane, 134. 

feared the day, 131. 

feet embraced, 121. 

first, 131. 

foin, 134. 

for, 148. 

forelays, 129. 

forth-right, 134. 

Freya, 132. 

Friday, 132. 

friendship of Palamon and Ar- 

cite, 125. 
fries, 133. 



INDEX TO NOTES 



163 



generous, 122, 134, 148, 150. 
genial, 145. 
gentle kind, 150. 
gentle of condition, 130. 
geomantic figures, 140. 
Goldsmith cited, 136, 156. 
good vicissitude of joy, 158. 
Gray cited, 155. 
guilty of their vows, 127. 

habit, 124. 

Hades, 141. 

half sunk, 149. 

hardly, 153. 

harness, 150. 

hateful, 123, 152. 

hauberks, 152. 

Hermes, 130. 

hexameters, 121. 

Hippolyta, 119. 

his , used as sign of possess i ve , 1 39. 

honest, 144. 

horoscope, 124. 

howling, 122. 

Idalian mount, 137. 
increase, 144, 145. 
inevitable, 123. 
insensible, 124. 

jambeux, 143. 
jarring seeds, 157. 
Johnson cited, 131. 
jolly, 134. 
joy, as verb, 158. 



Juno, 124. 

juppon, 143. 

jnstle for a grant, 126. 

king-at-arms, 150. 

knares, 138. 

knew, 133. 

knight, the, of Canterbury Tales, 

120, 143, 159. 
known of, 122. 

laund, 134, 155. 
listed field, 135. 
Lucina, 142. 
Lycurgus, 143. 

manifest of shame, 140. 

many, 151. 

mastership, 135. 

master-street, 155. 

mastless, 146. 

May-morn, 122-123. 

Medea, 137. 

menaced, 155. 

mend, 142. 

mended with a new, 120. 

menial, 130. 

Milton cited, 121, 130, 131, 132, 

134, 138, 143, 146, 152, 155. 
mischief, at, 151. 
morions, 150. 
mourner-yew, 155. 
museful, 130. 
my fate pursue, 133. 
myrtle, as tribute, 155. 



164 



INDEX TO NOTES 



Narcissus, 137. 

Nature, Chaucer's and Dryden's 

descriptions of, 131. 
next, 131. 
Niobe, 147. 

CEneus, 141. 

officious, 154. 

onomatopoeia, 128, 138, 148, 152. 

orient, 144. 

outrageous, 128. 

overlaid, 139, 152. 

own, 153. 

Palamon and Arcite: anach- 
ronisms, 119; mingling in, of 
classical and mediaeval, 119. 

Palamon and Arcite's friendship, 
125. 

pards, 143. 

Pater, Walter, cited, 125. 

Peneian Daphne, 141. 

pennon, 122. 

periods, 157. 

Philostratus, 130. 

Pirithous, 127. 

plain, the, 126. 

Pope, cited, 120, 125, 131, 136, 147, 
157. 

pretence, 126. 

preventing, 145. 

prime, 144. 

Prince, 119. 

process, 122. 

proud of, 128. 



provident, 151. 

Pruce, 143. 

purchase, his dear, 127. 

quartil, 129. 
quire, a, 120. 

rage, 122. 
rebate, 151. 
receives, 129. 
reclaimed, 144. 
recreant, 135. 
red star, the, 139. 
rest, the, 147. 
rhymes, 128, 131. 

Samson, 137. 

Saturn, 149. 

seated, 129. 

seats, 156. 

secure, 131. 

seeds, 157. 

self, 152. 

sere, 155. 

serve, 147. 

several, 143. 

Shakespeare cited, 121, 122, 130, 

135, 143, 146, 148, 150, 152, 153, 

154, 155, 157, 158. 
short of, 151. 
sigils, 137. 

signs of the zodiac, 135. 
sincere, 155. 
Sisters, the, 146. 
sized, 152. 



INDEX TO NOTES 



165 



softly, 122. 

Solomon, 137. 

some thus, 158. 

souls, man's three, 158. 

sovereign draughts, 153. 

Spenser cited, 121, 126. 

starve, 128. 

Statius, 147. 

still, 130, 155. 

stint, 149. 

strook, 134. 

stubborn, 143. 

stupid, 129. 

style, 131. 

suborn, 157. 

suffused, 137. 

sultry tropic, 132. 

swimming alder, 156. 

s wounded, 121. 

tale, 152. 

Tennyson cited, 122, 156. 
tense, change of, 128, 133. 
that side of heaven, 133. 
Theseus, 119. 
thick resort, 130. 
Thrace, 138. 
thrids, 129. 



to friend, 120. 
trim, 130. 
triplet, 120, 131. 
triumph, 121. 
tun, 139. 
turtles, 137. 

uncouth, 146. 

under, 135. 

underneath the sun, 134. 

Venus, 124. 

vindicate, 128. 

vindicate the common cause, 

126. 
virtue, 157. 

Volscian queen, the, 141. 
Vulcanian, 155. 

wakes, 156. 

war, the, 144. 

ward, 152. 

weeds, 121. 

with, 156. 

ivith his feet, 153. 

wound (pronunciation), 122. 

yet, 139. 



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Scott — Ivanhoe. 

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Scott — Ivanhoe. 
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" I am even more pleased with the book than I had expected to be. . . . I 
shall certainly try to introduce the book into one of my classes next fall." — 
Miss Anna H. Smith, High School, Binghamton, N.Y. 

" ' Studies in Structure and Style ' is, I think, the best book of the kind that 
has yet appeared, and I shall be glad to recommend it to my classes."— Prof . 
Edwin M. Hopkins, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kan. 

" I have delayed to acknowledge Brewster's ' Studies in Structure and Style,' 
which you kindly sent me, until I could examine it with some care. That exami- 
nation is very satisfactory. The selections are well chosen, and the comments 
both on their structure and their style are distinctly valuable. The work can 
hardly fail to be of large service." — Miss E. G. Willcox, Wellesley College, Mass. 



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